Stiletto pumps on the street

Nikki Jagerman

Glamour magazine has invented a new form of masochism. As if drinking cayenne pepper and maple syrup detox drinks and injecting Botox wasn’t enough for its readers, the magazine held its third Stiletto Run recently.

Stiletto Run 2008 drew 150 women to the streets of Amsterdam where they raced a 100-meter stretch. There were no injuries and the women were surprisingly agile.

Some of these women must have practiced on treadmills. How else could they have run in at least three-and-a-half inch heels with no more that a .6-inch heel diameter?

While the majority dressed in chic clothing to match the shoes, others (former Swan contest pre-makeover look-alikes) arrived wearing their heels with thick jogging socks, sweat suits, and baseball caps.

The latter evidently don’t read Glamour and were in it solely for the money, which would inevitably go towards their Crocs collection or used to buy a new crimping-iron.

The race had to have been dreamed up by an elitist fashion savant who didn’t quite fully develop the idea. This year’s race proved that there must be requirements to qualify.

It was more of a casting, if you will. Holding a Stiletto Run is an inventive idea to draw in readers.

But for it to catch the eye of potential sponsors (imagine water tables where runners have glass bottles of San Pellegrino handed to them or the winner breaking through tape reading “Jimmy Choo”) they’re going to have to have more registration requirements.

For example, the application must be written in Mont Blanc ink or read “Dictated By” at the end. Height, weight, income, and a recent photograph must be provided. Anyone whose photograph isn’t a professional casting card will be eliminated (but don’t tell contestants that it is a requirement beforehand). The second phase of casting requires that runners send in a photograph of what they plan to wear (to avoid the embarrassment of two women wearing the same outfit) along with a full description including label and price.

Glamour magazine isn’t looking for athletes; they’re looking for jet setters.

They want the crème de la crème of their readership to represent the Glamour image in the Netherlands but got the practical and unfabulous women who “run for fun.”

In the race’s this year, Glamour found that they couldn’t have their cake and throw it up too.

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