Samantha had ten minutes to get ready for her gala date, which in her world, meant nine minutes of soul searching in front of her shoe rack and one minute of intense cardio trying to cram her feet into a pair of heels that looked as though designed by an architect with a vendetta. She stood by her mirror, adjusting the thin straps of her dress and eyeing the pair of black high heels on the floor.
They were elegant, sleek, and slightly menacing. Shoes promising height and posture but threatening blisters in return. The kind of shoes that whispered, "You’ll regret this, but you'll look amazing doing it." Soon, she was out the door with the grace of a caffeinated flamingo. Even her neighbor’s cat paused to judge her life choices.
By the time Samantha clacked onto the marble ballroom floor, each step echoing like a warning shot, heads were turning. Compliments flowed like champagne. “You look stunning!” “Love the shoes!” “Are you okay?” Somewhere between hors d'oeuvres and losing all sensation in her toes, she wondered, was it the shoes, the dress, or just the audacity of showing up like a giraffe in a tiara that made people notice her?
She decided, maybe if the idea of beauty and attraction involves suffering in style. But honestly? Samantha knew real beauty came from confidence, charm …. and the ability to fake it 'til you find a chair.
In the end, someone who feels good in what they’re wearing, tends to be perceived as more attractive because that self-assurance is what truly stands out. And of course, surviving the night without falling over, or at least doing it gracefully enough to look like it was part of the choreography is bonus.