The Day He Conquered Stilettos

Lauren King

My brother owns more pairs of high heels than me.

Allow me to elaborate.

From the beginning it was always me and my older brother; we did everything together – to his annoyance. Seventeen year’s worth of inside jokes, arguments and love are built up in our relationship. As we grow older, our bond grows stronger. I have always looked up to him, physically and metaphorically, and I aspire to be like him. I followed in his footsteps and we now share our hobby of musical theatre together. Our relationship is like no other, he is the only person that hasn’t left my side - despite what we have both been through.

Being my primary male role model growing up, I constantly found myself asking for his advice. If I was struggling with school work, he’d help. If I was stuck on a particularly tricky level of Crash Bandicoot, he’d help. If I had boy trouble, well, he’d try to help. There’s been many evenings when he has done my physics homework while a I sit next to him, stressed out and sobbing. The offer for me to return the many, many, MANY favours has always been there, but he never took up my offer. 

Until…

It was an average afternoon, I was blasting my music while sitting on my phone – minding my own business - when I got a knock at my bedroom door. At the disturbance of my privacy, my big brother entered (without permission) carrying his laptop. I turned my music off at his request and asked, rather rudely, “what do you want?”. 

“I need your help”, was his response.

Worried at the seriousness of his tone, I quickly went through every scenario in my head, and finally came to the conclusion that I will help him hide the body, if needed. A long winded “riiiiight” left my mouth, which was his cue to turn his laptop around to unveil a pair of size 11 six-inch-heel scarlet stilettos. After I finished laughing, exactly 17 minutes after the initial reveal, he asked if they were “okay”. I expressed my love for these shoes, not realising he intended on actually wearing them and he jumped up with, “good because I’ve ordered them”.

A long-awaited delivery finally arrived and to my excitement, and his apprehension, he put them on. Fastening the buckle on the ankle strap was his first challenge, with my assistance and guidance, he was, eventually, secure in his dazzlement. He required some help standing up and once at his 7ft height, he stumbled. I’m torn between a drunken stumble or a headrush stumble as to which is a more accurate description. Clutching my arm, we proceeded slowly to the kitchen, where our mother was unaware of the antics that were taking place in the living room. However, we came to a stop and looked to one and other with identical expressions on our faces. 

The door. 

He was too tall to fit through the door. The scenario can be best summed up as a cross between the “pivot” scene in F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and Bambi on ice. He did a limbo-like movement, I was instructed to hold his back to prevent him falling but due to the laughter induced pain in my stomach I couldn’t carry out my duties. He staggered gripping onto the radiator, as if his life depended on it, into the kitchen and all that was said was, “nice legs son!”. A volcano of laughter between the three of us erupted.

Since my brothers first encounter with heels, he has strutted his stuff as two drag characters in amateur musical productions. Seeing him dressed in drag always makes me proud, not many people can experience witnessing their big brother straddle another man in white go-go boots. There is always a sense of jealousy though; I wish my legs looked as good as his…

Anyway.

Moral of the story: always measure doors before purchasing stilettos.