Strong women wear their pain like stilettos. No matter how much it hurts, all you see is the beauty of it.
You can do anything you put your mind to, and you can do it in stilettos.
The stiletto is a feminine weapon that men just don't have.
The right pair of shoes can change the feel of an outfit, and even change how a woman feels about herself
High heels are pleasure with pain.
How can you live the high life if you do not wear the high heels?
Stiletto, I look at it more as an attitude as opposed to a high-heeled shoe.
The stiletto is the icon of erotic femininity. You're taller, thinner and curvier, all at the same time. What's not to like?
You put high heels on and you change.
All I need are chocolates, credit card, and stilettos.
I don't know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot.
A proper lady should be able to smile pretty, wear sequins like she means it, and kick a man's ass nine ways from Sunday while wearing stiletto heels. If she can't do that much, she's not trying hard enough.
Staring at her face, she began to fancy her outer layer had begun to melt away while she wasn't paying attention, and something -- some new skeleton -- was emerging from beneath the softness of her accustomed self. With a deep, visceral ache, she wished her true form might prove to be a sleek and shining one, like a stiletto blade slicing free of an ungainly sheath. Like a bird of prey losing its hatchling fluff to hunt in cold, magnificent skies. That she might become something glittering, something startling, something dangerous.
I have always loved fashion because it's a great way to express your mood. And I'm definitely a shoe lover. The right pair of shoes can change the feel of an outfit, and even change how a woman feels about herself. A woman can wear confidence on her feet with a high stiletto, or slip into weekend comfort with a soft ballet flat.
Because war and preparations for war have acquired legitimacy, and because of the tremendous proliferation of arms through production and export, so that they are now available more or less to all and sundry, right down to handguns and stilettos, the cult of violence has by now so permeated relations between people that we are compelled to witness as well an increase in everyday violence.
People should know whatever it is you love to do. I am a living testament to the fact that you can do it. You can do whatever it is you put your mind to and you can do it in stilettos.
I had a rule about stilettos, and it was this: I didn't wear them unless I planned to kick ass in them. Stilettos were for striding and sauntering, never sulking.
She who dies with the most stilettos wins.
Note to self: Never ride a motorcycle in stilettos and a miniskirt.
High heels are like a beauty lift. In a flat you can feel beautiful, but a stiletto changes your mood, how you move - like a wild, beautiful animal. The idea was always to follow a women's wardrobe, her desires.
I like nudging readers into a slightly different perspective, but in a sly way - I want to be the writer who slips a stiletto in and out, to make so swift and clean a cut, it's not until a chapter ends that the reader looks down and sees she's bleeding and asks what happened.
The unwearable of high heels is self-evidently all around us, coming to a head at the average wedding reception, a uniformly high-heeled occasion. In our minds, we see it as a serene and elegant gathering of women in their finest, one of the big chances of the year to pretend you're at the Oscars, in your stilettos. In actuality of course, ... there are women staggering around in the unaccustomed vertical, foot-flesh spilling over tight, unkind satin.
You can't turn up at college in stilettos and say you're gonna be a filmmaker. In the college, they were teaching me avant-garde filmmaking, where I had to make films that were, like, an hour long about nothing. I just refused to do it.
So what do people see when they read that well-behaved women rarely make history? Do they imagine good-time girls in stiletto heels or do-good girls carrying clipboards and passing petitions? Do they envision an out-of-control hobbyist or a single mother taking down a drunk in a bar? I suspect that it depends on where they stand themselves.
An hour before his world exploded like a ripe tomato under a stiletto heel, Myron bit into a fresh pastry that tasted suspiciously like urinal cake.
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