Magickman

BobHH asked,

"Is Red Wing, MN the home of Red Wing work shoes/boots?"

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Yes, it is. And not only the home, but also the site of their manufacturing. Red Wing shoes and boots are actually American made, right there in Red Wing.

Throughout the town of Red Wing are giant fiberglass boots, in various paint schemes. Red Wing takes great civic pride in their home town shoe company, which is a major employer.

Stiletto heels, sexy and sinful, beckon with a bayonet. Usually found on women's feet, they take on a yet more sinister appearance, when gracing the feet of a fellow. There is an undeniable eroticism explicit in the high heel. When this sexual trigger surmounts the gender boundary, public perception becomes dizzied, and takes a confused spin through sexual role expectations.

Women deal with males in heels more easily, perhaps because of typically greater female familiarity with the tall shoes. Conversely, many men feel threatened by another man who can climb into the phallic footwear. Not merely shoes, high heels are a symbol of sexuality, erotically transforming the wearer.

Feeling tall and sexy, is how many high heel wearers describe the sensation of strutting in their heels. Strutting-- to walk with a lofty proud gait, often in an attempt to impress others. "He struts around like a rooster in a hen house," might depict the male heeler in public.

Wearing high heels is erotic advertising, a promise of forbidden pleasures. The audio track is the distinctive "tickety-tick" sound that draws eyes to its source. The eyes zoom in to obtain a better view.

The shape of high heeled shoes and boots is intrinsicly provocative, all suggestive curves and protuberances, so unlike the linear rectitude of flat shoes.

A male-female couple, both in sexy heels, is an erotic redoubling of the impact of one person, either gender, so shod. Shoes, simple protective outer coverings for the feet, can assume the shape of human desire, and give notice of delicious intent.

There can be little doubt about the the erotic nature of high heels, as those who wear them surely know.

Early Sunday morning, I bathed, shaved and dressed, donning my new stretch jeans and knee high suede wedge heel boots. My woman was prompt, to take us to the train station, in Osceola, Wisconsin. We arrived plenty early, to be sure tickets were available. After I bought the tickets, she took me out for breakfast, before our train departed. The excursion train was old coaches, all over 50 years age, pulled by a diesel-electric locomotive. We were seated in an ancient triple combine car. It was 82 feet long, divided into three sections-- railway post office (RPO), baggage and railway express section, and a small 20 passenger coach seating area. The scenery was delightful; riverfront and forest, with beautiful fall leaf colors, and we crossed an old iron swing bridge over the river. I toured the moving train, walking from car to car. Lots of families and kids and some senior citizens. Nobody much noticed my boots, or said anything, even though they were worn outside my jeans. Some concentration was required for walking in my boots on the swaying train. After the train ride, we drove down to Red Wing, Minnesota, for dinner, and then back into Wisconsin for a long country ride, culminating in a visit to a roadside "joint" for drinks as our local Minnesota pro football team being trounced by Atlanta on the TV. It turned out to be a biker bar, but none of the Harley dudes took note of my boots, although my blue chrome tinted fingernails got a few glances. There was a menacing looking alpha male at the end of the bar, wearing a red "Crime, Inc." T shirt, but he was busy with his friends and his girl. I even won a small wager on the game. All in all, it was a great day for a train ride and some bi-state street heeling.

It happenned tp me, too

Last week, at the Brookside Bar and Grill, in quirky Marine-on-St. Croix, Minnesota, I had stopped in with my woman for a drink. One of the waitresses spotted my heels, and simply asked, "Are you gay?"

I made the usual pro forma denial, but I don't think she believed me. Some folks cannot escape the stereotypical gender segregation of footwear. If she had been wearing paratrooper boots, would I have asked if she was a lesbian?

How about this!

I just received an e-mail from my woman:

Subject: Show'em your heels

Gotta show you off in your new boots and jeans somewhere. Do you think

you will

wear them on the train? SMOOOOOOCH.

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We will be taking a ride this Sunday on a scenic excursion train in the St. Croix Valley. And she has requested that I wear my new wedge heel suede knee boots and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. I'm gonna do it.

On Sunday, I convinced my woman to accompany me to Maplewood Mall, a large suburban, St. Paul, Minnesota, shopping center. Shoes were on my mind. A half price promotion on shoes and boots was underway at the Kohl's department store. I picked a pair of Croft and Barrow leather ankle boots with medium shank 3" heels. I wanted to buy a pair of the same style for my woman, but she thought they looked better on me than on her. Then she announced that I should get some natural suede boots, and she spotted a pair of suede knee boots with a 3 1/2" wedge heels. She really liked these, but again, on me and not her. Because she liked the wedge heel boots so much, I bought those as well. So my boot shopping trip with my woman in tow, resulted in two more pairs to add to my collection. Then my woman said we had to find some jeans for me, to go with the suede boots. At Sears, she chose a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt size 12 stretch jeans for me, and darn if the color does not complement my suede boots very nicely. She wants me properly accessorized. OK by me.

Hello Shoeman,

Have fun with shoes, whatever kind you like. Old tennies, dress oxfords, boots, or heels of any style, are all suitable. It is entirely a matter of what pleases you.

Some folks only wear their boots or heels in the house, and that is OK. Instead, I choose to take it out in the world, at the grocery, zoo, theater, restaurant, social events, and on dates.

How others see you is not simply a function of your footwear choice. People largely respond to the aura that you project. Cool confidence in yourself is what will attract women and make a positive impression. If you wear tall shoes, public reaction will not be uniform. Some folks will like it, and others not. What is more important is that you are doing what you like.

Others will accept you based more on the positive projection of your personality, than on your particular shoe style. If you wear what you like, and feel good doing it, then folks will pick up that you are happy and satisfied with yourself. That is attractive. It draws people into your orbit.

Strut your stuff in the shoes that make you feel good. Enjoy yourself. And remember, life is short, so you need not await someone else's approval to make yourself happy.

I have many different pairs of heel boots that I wear publicly, that range from broad heels of only 2 1/2 inches to stilettos of 4 1/2 inches. I think the women react more, positively or negatively, to the higher and narrower heels. Some are rather unisex in appearance, and most are black. My favorites, however, are more fashionable stiletto styles with narrow soles, pointier toes, and sexy curves, even hooker boots, as some of the women call them. Plainly to the observer, they are big heels, something I do not attempt to hide. I wear them because it pleases me, and they make me noticeably taller. Styles of this kind are only available in women's models, so that is what I wear. I do not attribute qualities of gender to shoes and boots. Instead I consider masculine and feminine to be traits of people. Last week a tavern waitress saw my stilettos and asked if I was gay. My woman piped in with, "No, I assure you he is not." I think that answered the question. I am quite comfortable wearing my high heels just about anywhere, and I am not overly concerned if strangers like them or not. I wear my heels to please myself. In tall, sexy shoes, I feel tall and sexy, and women can sense that. ===================================== Spikes Posted: Fri Sep 23, 2005 4:09 pm Post subject: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm curious Magickman, what kind of heels do you wear that women are attracted to? Obviously, you are heeling in public. Are they boots that appear to be unisex or are they truly feminine looking? Whatever the answer, I admire a man who is willing to show his preferences in public.

Thanks Dawn. I can hardly believe it myself. She is an angel.

High Heels-- The Chick Magnet

As curious as it may seem, high heels on a guy are simply a chick magnet. Sure, some women are of an opposite polarity, and not attracted. But my experience is that many women are allured and excited by a guy in heels. This is hardly conjecture, rather personal experience with meeting women at social dances and on the internet.

Face it, most guys dress and look pretty much alike, same styles of hair, clothing, and footwear. A fellow who can set himself apart from the crowd will quickly grab women's attention. I mean the women will approach me, when I am wearing my heels, and start conversations. Of course, they ask about my shoes, where I got them, if I can dance wearing heels, and so forth. If I am wearing plain men's shoes, that never happens.

The only conclusion I can draw from this, is that a lot of women are attracted to a man in heels. It has happened to me repeatedly. I think that scads of women have a thing for shoes, a fetish if you will. A man in heels turns them on.

Now this is only my own experience. Surely, some of you other guys have had experiences meeting women, while you were wearing your heels. Women treated you differently, didn't they?

How about sharing your stories of meeting women, even your wives and girlfriends, when you were wearing your heels?

There must many stories like this. And I think we should hear them.

I agree that shoe sizes can be a curious conundrum. My men's shoe size is 7 1/2 to 8. For women's shoes, depending on brand and style, it varies from 9 to 9 1/2, to occasionally 10. But some shoes, both men's and women's, will not fit my feet. One size is too tight, but the next larger size is too loose. Knowing this from experience, I try on every shoe that I buy, and spend some time walking around wearing them in the shoe store, if I am at all uncertain. Sometimes this is amusing, like the time I was at Marshall Fields during a big, well attended sale. There I was in the women's shoe department trying on stiletto high heels and knee boots, literally rubbing shoulders with ladies scrambling along side me, all of us trying to find our size. Then I was wedged between two ladies on the bench, trying on these fashionable tall boots. While my arms were loaded with boots, a shoe salesman asked if I needed help finding anything else, adding that, "I know those aren't for you." Moments later, I brought my purchases to the same salesman, who had to retrieve the boot's mates and boxes from the stockroom. When he returned, I asked to try on both the left and right boots of a spike heel stiletto sttyle, adding conspiratorically that they were for me, indeed. Better to risk embarrassment, than to go home with shoes that don't fit. And come to think of it, why be embarrassed to buy shoes or try them on? Nothing wrong with that, is there? Some women think that I am cute in heels.

My woman arrived at the cabin Tuesday night sporting newly double pierced ears and wearing her knee high stiletto heel boots. It was too late to cook, she said. So she insisted on taking me out for drinks and dinner at a local country roadhouse. So it was dinner in heels for both of us, with dessert back at the cabin. We sat on the plastic loveseat, right at the river's edge, and began to kiss, under the moonlight. She is the woman who loves me, she said, suggesting that we go to New Zealand, and get married. After a largely sleepless night, the next day, the last day of boreal summer, I swam in the frigid river, encouraged by her promises to warm me afterward. She made us a tray of delicious homemade lasagna, which we ate before retiring. Saturday, she is taking me to a performance of the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra. My bachelor days may be almost over. She wants us to be a couple, in high heels, and with matching earrings.

Black, 4 1/2" Heel, Ankle Boots, and Short Shorts. That is what I was wearing. What??? But I am getting ahead of myself. Updating the story, my girlfriend invited me to an outdoor folk music festival in Red Wing, Minnesota. So we drove down to Red wing, the work boot capital of the United States, and home of the Red Wing Shoe Company. The festival was great, and by the way, never miss the chance to hear the original music and comedy routine of Lou and Peter Berryman. Anyway, it was 3" heel, low ankle boots, and denim camp shorts for the festival, which was like a 1960s hippie reunion, and loads of fun. Saturday was lunch and dinner out, before and after the folk fest, with my girlfriend treating. She is so sweet that way. Then Saturday night, we used that big Jacuzzi bath in the hotel room, which put us both in a real friendly mood. Jacuzzi again in the morning, and then a walking tour of historic Red Wing. So, there we were, going for a walk in small town America, around 8:00 A.M. Sunday morn'. I put on stretch denim short shorts, and my black ankle boots with 4 1/2" chunky heels, as well as all of my earrings, at least five in each ear. I mean I was up there, toweringly high, with it all clearly visible to any and all observers. We walked hither and yon, uphill and down, all around town, for maybe 2 1/2 hours. Cruising down the sidewalk of the main highway through town, we caught the attention of the awakening townsfolk. Not once, but twice, fellows driving passing autos honked, grinned and gestured thumbs up as they passed. My girlfriend insisted all of the attention was for me, and not her, and she said they knew who, and what, and what gender, they were honking at. Returning to the hotel, I saw the young female desk clerk outside, taking a smoke break. Stopping in front of her, I looked down at my heels, and said, "These are my hiking boots." She grinned and giggled. I was thinking that Red Wing does not get too many short shorts wearing guys in really tall high heels, walking on their main street in broad daylight. Now, maybe I am wrong about that. But it sure was fun. My girlfriend is an artist, a broad-minded woman of eclectic tastes, and she enjoyed it, too. To conclude this particular adventure, still in my heels, we checked out of the hotel, and drove home through Wisconsin, stopping for a nice lunch in River Falls, and a private tour of an antebellum, octagon shaped mansion in Hudson, that was constructed in 1855, for a one legged judge from New York State. It was quite a heely weekend.

Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2005 3:46 am Post subject: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bubba wrote: "Well, just because she has sore feet and can't wear heels for awhile doesn't mean you can't wear your heels on your dates, does it? " ============================================ That is exactly what we did. We were visiting the quaint and quirky riverside town of Marine-on-St. Croix, Minnesota, and stopped in for a drink at the Brookside Bar and Grill, which is located in an historic old mill building, that has a rushing mill race, running through the basement. My date's feet were still sore with blisters, but I outdid myself this time, with my very high and narrow-stiletto-heeled Skecher boots. The usual suspects were at the bar, small town characters and a few visitors. From the looks on their faces, fellows in stiletto high heel boots are seen at the Brookside extremely infrequently. We watched a blond bombshell shut down a would-be Romeo, while baseball and football games were playing on TV's suspended over opposite ends of the bar. Radio JACK FM was on the speaker system, adding to the conversational din. We stayed for a while, but my date and I couldn't wait to be alone, at the cabin where we were staying. She says that she wants to take me to an art gallery opening, and that I should wear my Skecher stiletto high heel boots. Why not?

The next chapter in the saga of the high heeled woman found us together a few days later, on another date. She was in flats this time, because our midnight walking excursion, with her in the new stiletto boots, (sans stockings) resulted in nasty blisters on her feet. Her feet are convalescing at this time, so no high heels for a while. When she gets better, we will try heeling again. Meanwhile, we have yet another date set for tonight.

Whatever the style of footwear that an individual chooses, whether heeled or flat, drab or flamboyant, it seems a matter of small consequence. And, of course, so it is, unless the person wearing the shoes violates the rules of footwear gender segregation. "Those are women's shoes!" or "You're wearing high heels!" are accusations that I have heard from time to time, from people whose world view cannot accomodate diversity of male shoe selection. The same folks would never say anything to a woman, who was wearing clothes or shoes of male styling. That would be politically incorrect. If a man is wearing womens' clothing or footwear, this is perceived as gender treachery, switching teams, if you will. Men are expected to act and dress like men, conforming to customary standards of normality. Get out of line, and be singled out. Violate the rules, and expect censure. By donning high heels, a man is attacking the foundational basis of family life, the idea that men must be sartorially differentiated from women. What's next, will men wear dresses? What's next, always what's next. The critics and complainers frequently transfer their ire from the small and present subject, to a matter of much greater concern and danger. This is a sort of domino theory of shoes. That is, if some men are allowed to get away with wearing high heels, then it will unavoidably lead to larger and more serious transgressions of the gender code. Personally, I don't much care about the critics, or what they say. In my heel boots, I am a taller and more imposing presence, and a few inches closer to heaven, as well. I regard that as a good response to queries about why I wear heels, that it brings me a few inches closer to heaven. By asserting a religious basis for my choice of shoe styles, this confers Constitutional immunity for my actions, and renders me safe from prosecution and persecution both. If I say it with a smile, the grin is often returned. And yes, I do wear my high heels religiously and with pride, even the stilettos.

Early in our e-mail correspondence, I told the lady of my proclivity for high heeled footwear, so she was well aware of my love for heel boots. Although she was a professed flat shoe wearer, she recently purchased three pairs of boots, apparently because of my expressed preference for them. So she knew I would be wearing high heel stiletto boots, and she made the effort to please me by wearing them , herself. The lady is an artist by profession, highly intellectual, and very open-minded. Needless to say, I was quite impressed by her actions. She and I will be seeing each other again, very soon.

For some three months now, I have been exchanging e-mail and phone calls with a woman who I met on the Internet. Until this last weekend though, we had not made personal acquaintance. She told me she was a barefoot and flat shoes kind of gal, but we hit it off well in conversation and correspondence. Finally, this last Saturday night, we agreed to a late evening rendezvous at an all night restaurant, in West St. Paul, Minnesota. I scrambled to wash up and dress, brushed my hair, and shaved. Searching through the shoe room, I chose a pair of black leather Nine West ankle boots, with 3 3/4" stiletto heels, the "Dayoff" style. I put on my leather vest, and some cute, wide hoop silver earrings, from J.C. Penney. It was late, after 12:30, when we met at the restaurant. My date was a lovely woman, with a radiant smile, and I was very pleased to finally meet her. Imagine my surprise and delight, when this flat shoe girl arrived wearing new, black, stiletto heel boots, very much like the ones I was wearing. We were quite a pair at the restaurant, and our waitress had an astonished look on her face, when she saw we were both wearing stiletto high heel boots. The waitress said nothing about our boots, but her facial expression revealed her amazement at the stiletto shod couple. I am sure that she, and her cohorts at the restaurant, talked of nothing else, all through the overnight shift, than the happy, smiling couple in matching stiletto high heel boots. After we left the restaurant, my date and I still had a lot of energy, and we decided to go for a walk. I suggested the riverfront promenade, along the Mississippi River, in nearby downtown St. Paul. We drove to a parking area, near the paved Riverwalk, and still wearing our stiletto boots, proceeded, hand in hand, along the riverbank. The Riverwalk overlooked a marina, and there were late night party people, still revelling on some of the boats. We stopped at a park bench, sat down, and began to kiss. What a wonderful evening, with a high heeled woman!

There I was, at Harbor Freight Tool Store in West Saint Paul, Minnesota, looking at wrenches on sale. I was wearing black, zip-up low ankle boots with 3" heels. "Oh my God," said the cashier, a Hispanic woman, "You're wearing heels. Are those womens' shoes?" With a smile, I replied, "Not any more." Then I added, "You should see my really high ones."

It has been warm this week, up in Minnesota. I put on my short shorts for shopping at the supermarket, pharmacy, and K-Mart. But I didn't want to abandon my heel boots, so I decided that low ankle boots with a 3" heel would be appropriate. They are the EA "Marilyn" style, in black. Only one guy noticed, and he said, "Are you wearing boots?"

I went shoe shopping tonight at Famous Footwear in the Minneapolis- St. Paul, Minnesota area. Someone had told me that one of the suburban stores had a substantial stock of high heel boots at sale prices. Arriving at the store, I searched in vain for the promised collection of boots. Finally, I asked one of the sales girls where the boots were. "Follow me," she said. She led me into the stockroom, for a private showing. Huge shelf racks were jam packed with high heel boots. "What is your size?" she asked. When I told her my size, she grabbed the ladder and began to make pile of boot boxes in size 9 1/2. Another shop girl came to help. I was flabbergasted by the level of personal service. Then I began trying on pair after pair of boots-- chunky heels, stilettos, ankle boots, knee boots, every style in my size. The girls made no comments about my selections of various styles of high heeled women's boots. I must have tried on two dozen pairs. After about 45 minutes of trying on boots in front of the girls, and walking in the boots all around the stock room, I had made my selections. Eight pairs had caught my fancy. The girls helped me to carry them back through the showroom to the cash register. With my reward certificate, and all of the sales specials, eight pairs of new boots cost me less than $100.00. The original prices totalled over $450.00. I have always received excellent service at Famous Footwear, but today the service was just exceptional. I asked the shop girls if other fellows bought high heel boots for themselves at that store. No, they told me, I was the only one. My new girlfriend is a high heel fan. When I told her of my purchases, she insisted that I must bring them all over to her condo, to model them for her. What a great night of shoe shopping!

Although wearing heels will not allow any higher reach, it does present the illusion of greater height. For those of us around 5'7", that does help.

Hello all, I am a new poster, although I have been following this site for some time. As a straight male of somewhat diminutive stature, who was tired of looking up at the ladies, It finally dawned upon me that I could beat them at their own game. Went out to the shoe department at Sears, to look at heel boots. Found some I liked and asked the very young salesgirl to bring some out for me to try on. "But those are women's shoes," she protested. "To make me taller," I replied. Rather dubiously, she complied. Well, to make a short story tall, I bought some Skecher boots with a big, chunky heel. Now I have a collection of various styles of boots from numerous stores, although the shopgirl at Sears was the only one who became perplexed at my purchases. At my favorite Famous Footwear store, the helpful staff greets me by name and finds special values for me, in my preferred styles of heel boots. I wear my boots just about everywhere, in 2", 3", and 4" heights. Few people give me a second look, but women sometimes offer compliments. I even wear my tallest boots to singles dance parties, where women will approach, to ask if I can dance in my tall boots. ("Those heels", is what they say.) Of course, I always comply, and find this is a useful way to break the ice, and meet women. And another thing. I like being taller-- 5'10" in my boots with 4" heels. JAKE