rise to the occasion; Heels are stepping up, legs are looking longer, but how wearable is the impossibly high platform.

Byline: Sarah Mower

Contrary to everything I'd read about winter shoes-square-toed Roger Vivier pumps on one foot, mod knee boots on the other-I was struck by a presentiment, right there in the Yves Saint Laurent shoe department on September 8, 2005. Forget that: I was going for platforms.

In front of me stood the most humongous pair of sandals I'd seen for 30 years. Just looking at them threw me giddily back, back, back . . . to my very first tottering step into fashion, aged fourteen. They were as high and chunky as the blue suede Biba boots I borrowed from the girl next door to go to my first glam-rock gig. Frankly, I hadn't seen the like since Elton and Bowie were lads. Even more frankly, they didn't quite fit. But once I put them under the pair of wide-legged trousers I was wearing that day, reared up, and looked in the mirror, the madness was upon me. The trousers covered most of the shoes, and in a flash, there it was again: the long-legged, ultra-tall, skinny-fying sensation that caused platforms to rule the Earth between 1970 and 1975. A swipe of MasterCard, and it was done.

But oh! An hour later, cooling my heels in my bedroom, I was tortured with retail remorse. What was a woman in her 40s doing with a pair of shoes that reminded her of being a teen? Wasn't this as bad as an old-school sixties chick thinking she can redo baby doll? I got myself in such a state that I nearly took them back-but then, instead, I called Vogue and suggested a small magazine article: the emotional dilemmas of platform-wearing-When is one too old? What do they go with?, and so on.

Vogue kindly sent over a hamper of Sergio Rossi, Prada, and Christian Louboutin. The idea was I should test-drive them during the shows in Milan and Paris.

And Lord, was I glad! From about day three of the spring shows it was clear that I was running with the story of the season. Not only were platforms appearing in ever greater numbers on runways but they were breaking out among the audience, too. Often editors and store buyers sit at shows, register the runway trends, but pass for themselves. But now, here was a new game: Spot the platforms in the audience.

One morning, I counted three of Stefano Pilati's YSL sandals and four of the stacked-loafer version strolling up to the front rows. Prada's giant pumps and slingbacks were running a close second, with Chloe and Louboutin (you can always identify them from the red soles) coming up on the outside. Cool professionals are normally loath to be caught wearing the same thing everyone's wearing, but this mad outbreak of novelty was something else. Sole sisters were bonding. "Like being on your own cloud, isn't it?" said one. "Yeah!" replied the other. "I like it up here!"