My women students openly admit that they dress for interviews like dates, hoping to look their best: makeup, high heels, a well-fitting suit that shows off their figure. And I always tell them to make sure to wear a shirt under the suit jacket. Form fitting, yes. Cleavage, no.

I live in Paris, a city where you have a lot of stylish women, so I learned a lot by observing the women in the street. But my mother was always a big influence as well; she is always very feminine in high heels and perfectly cut dresses, with perfect makeup but never too much.

I want to be like one of those little fainting goats that get scared and then just fall over. I want to go and go and then drop dead in the middle of something I'm loving to do. And if that doesn't happen, if I wind up sitting in a wheelchair, at least I'll have my high heels on.

Any man will follow any feminine looking thing down any dark alley; I've always wanted to see a man beaten to a shit bloody pulp with a high-heeled shoe stuffed up his mouth, sort of the pig with the apple; it would be good to put him on a serving plate but you'd need good silver.

You see so many of these empowering songs where a woman saying, you know, I'm going to go out, I'm going to wear high heels, you know, short skirt or whatever. But the high heels are quite uncomfortable, and so how good about yourself are you really feeling walking out in high heels?

If you are a nurturing mother, and a good one, you can go to play groups, sit on the floor and play all the games, and have tea with the other mothers, but wouldn't you like to think that's not all there is? That you haven't hung up your high heels without knowing how to walk in them?

I have high heels in my bags if I need them for a shoot. But I like sneakers. I like being comfortable. I like to sit on the floor with my team and work. I don't like to sit in fancy chairs. It's really important to the culture of my company that people understand who they're working for.

People say I am the king of painful shoes. I don't want to create painful shoes, but it is not my job to create something comfortable. I try to make high heels as comfortable as they can be, but my priority is design, beauty and sexiness. I'm not against them, but comfort is not my focus.

I haven't grown since I was 13, and every girl cast opposite me isn't allowed to wear heels on camera, for fear that I would look minuscule. In all of the casting calls for my best friends on every project, it says in big, bold, red letters: 'Please no high heels.' It's a little embarrassing.

I love heels, and as a size 36, I've accumulated a wall of amazing high heels from catwalk shows over the years where designers had to make especially small shoes. Tom Ford's golden versions are my favourite. I do, however, also live in my flat Saint Laurent Chelsea boots or Givenchy sneakers.

I think it's important for kids to express themselves with bad fashion. I struggle a little bit now because I have a daughter and I feel with fashion, like they're sexualizing the kids so young. Little kids in high heels and that kind of thing is really difficult for me to wrap my head around.

I hate the idea of natural. For example, I prefer gardens to wild nature. I like to see the human touch. High heels are a complete invention - an extravagance. They're far from natural, but it's the impracticality that I adore. I prefer the useless to the useful, the sophisticated to the natural.

When you're performing, you just have to keep pushing through. You're human, and you're going to make mistakes. I think even Beyonce has tripped on stage, and she's Beyonce! We're all human beings, and sometimes we trip in our high heels! I barely perform in high heels. I don't know how those girls do it.

Once, I was going to a film event, and someone told me not to wear high heels to it. They said that it might intimidate the men. For some reason, I was ready to take their cue, but about an hour later, something in my head started ringing, and I thought, 'That is the worst advice anybody's ever given me.'

Men sucked. They were the root of every problem any woman could ever have. They were the reason for bras, the need for makeup, hair stylists, shaving legs, and high heels that made the arch feel like it had a steel rod slammed up it. They were picky, arrogant, argumentative, and so damned certain of themselves <...>.

The first person I ever described the film [The Neon Demon] to was Christina Hendricks [who has a cameo in the movie]. We were having dinner in LA and she asked me what I wanted to do next and I said, "I want to do a horror movie." And she goes, "What's it going to be about?" And I said, "A lot of blood and high heels."

Music really influenced me when I was growing up. I did go through a Jimi Hendrix phase. My hair was naturally quite afro, and I wore low-slung jeans with very high heels. Siouxsie and the Banshees had a lot to answer for. I was in a top hat with peacock feathers and thigh-high black boots. I was 17 -- old enough to know better.

When I think about fashion and elegance, I imagine a woman from the 1950s, on an airplane, with seamed stockings and a garment belt underneath, a skirt, high heels, and her hair that she's done the night before, perfectly done eyeliner, lipstick, gloves, perhaps, and all this just to sit on an airplane for a transcontinental flight.

Everyone likes a pair of comfy shoes. But is this an automatic right? Comfy shoes are clearly not allowed at the Oscars, for example. Why should criminals enjoy a treat that is denied to our favourite actresses? All prisoners, male and female, should be obliged to wear high heels. This would also make them easier to catch during riots.

My mom let me play in her clothes, wear makeup, and I had high heels from a thrift store. My mom tells me that the only reason she let me dress in her clothes is because she couldn't afford any toys, and it seemed entertaining enough and kept her from having to buy me anything, 'cause everything I wanted was in her makeup box or wardrobe.

Bono told me how to dance in high heels and he also told me about U2's Glastonbury performance and how everything that could have possibly gone wrong went wrong, including him ripping his trousers on stage. I think he was lunging and his trousers ripped! He was telling me how he had to find a new way of performing that didn't involve moving.

I like rock and roll t-shirts, tight jeans, and sneakers or boots. Really just laid back, sort of rock and roll. I'm a sneaker person. I don't really like to wear high heels. I'm always really paranoid when I'm on stage playing guitar that I'm going to trip over one of the cords when I'm prancing around so I have on wedges or shoes that are not too high.

The back windows looked out over the fields, then the Atlantic, maybe a hundred yards away. Actually, I'm just making that bit up. I had no idea how far away the sea was. Only men could do things like that. "Half a mile." "Fifty yards." Giving directions, that sort of thing. I could look at a woman and say "Thirty-six C." Or "Let's try it in the next size up." But I had no idea how far away Tim's sea was except that I wouldn't want to walk to it in high heels.

People ask me all the time, 'How can I walk in these heels?' I answer with the best compliment I remember that came from a woman who lives here in Paris...I know my street much better. Heels permit me to take the time to look at the architecture of my street. Now I take time to look at things.' High heels give you time to think, to look at your surroundings- a camel has seen more in life than a very quick horse! Women should live to rhythm of high-heeled shoes!

I believe the defining moment was when certain persons, who shall remain nameless, objected to my fuchsia silk striped waistcoat. I loved that waistcoat. I put my foot down, right then and there; I do not mind telling you!" To punctuate his deeply offended feelings, he stamped one silver-and-pearl-decorated high heel firmly. "No one tells me what I can and cannot wear!" He snapped up a lace fan from where it lay on a hall table and fanned himself vigorously with it for emphasis.

There are a few people out there with whom you fit just so, and, amazingly, you keep fitting just so even after you have growth spurts or lose weight or stop wearing high heels. You keep fitting after you have children or change religions or stop dyeing your hair or quit your job at Goldman Sachs and take up farming. Somehow, God is gracious enough to give us a few of those people, people you can stretch into, people who don't go away, and whom you wouldn't want to go away, even if they offered.

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