Spike Heels

Workplace aesthetics are easy on men and incredibly harsh for women. No matter how powerful or competent a woman is, minute questions about her self-presentation are inescapable. Women’s dress must be attractive without crossing the boundaries of tasteful sexuality—complex requirements men simply do not face.

Georgie expresses her hatred for the expensive spike heels she feels she must wear to work: “Goddammit, I hate heels. I have ruined my arches for the rest of my life just so a bunch of stupid men can have a good time looking at my fucking legs” (8). They are too sexy for a professional look, reducing Georgie to a piece of office decor; however, because she has anxiety and imposter syndrome about her job, which she only got under the auspices of Andrew and at the whim of Edward, Georgie wears the heels and the rest of her provocative attire to assure job security. The heels are a costume—wearing them forces Georgie to participate in the predatory environment of her workplace.

The play, however, refuses to reduce women to mere victims. Georgie does her best to use the rules of the patriarchal trap she has fallen into, agreeing to go out with sexual aggressor Edward and trying to preempt more jokes about him raping her by wearing a “provocative outfit” and “exotic spike heels” (42) that she complains are “kind of like walking on stilts” (43). 

In the closing scene, after her time with Lydia, Georgie comes on stage dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater. She gratefully slips off the heels, seemingly for good. Now that she has found actual power, Georgie no longer needs to play sexy. Instead, she and Edward will define her new role in the office, without heels. 

Andrew and Lydia educate Georgie in different ways through books. Andrew gives Georgie a copy of Homer’s Iliad, a selection that reveals his complete disregard for her as a human being. An epic about the decade-long Trojan War fought over Helen of Troy by a husband eager to retrieve his property, the Iliad is primarily about the rites and duties of men and the ravages of warrior culture—its women are traded as commodities, enslaved by the victors, and raped as part of conquest. Georgie, in her own defiantly flippant way, dismisses the book entirely as fodder for “a great mini-series […] junk TV” (23).

Conversely, after Georgie and Lydia share their slow dance and spend the night together, Georgie returns to her apartment with a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Lydia has not imposed this novel on Georgie as a canonical masterpiece; instead, she appealed to Georgie’s possible interests: “she says it’s about a bunch of girls and their boyfriends. I thought it sounded good” (93). Austen’s gentle satire of upper-class mores in Edwardian England valorizes relationships constructed not around power and control but rather by mutual respect. Its protagonist Elizabeth Bennet is driven by her intellect; her pragmatic dislike of the arrogant Fitzwilliam Darcy teaches him to stop condescending and start being emotionally open. The play argues this novel will show Georgie to trust her intellect and judgment.

The play uses music to characterize Andrew and Georgie. When Act I opens in Andrew’s book-lined apartment, the stage directions call for a Baroque piece by Mozart or Vivaldi to be playing. This element perfectly fits the space. Baroque music’s careful contrapuntal balance of tempos, elegant melodies, and architectural tightness represent Andrew’s hermetically sealed professorial world. The music contrasts sharply with the action on stage: As Georgie parades around Andrew’s apartment in her bra and panties, attempts a clumsy seduction, and lets out a barrage of expletives accompanying her harrowing story of Edward’s unwanted sexual affronts, the clean and clear patterns of the classical piece are set against Georgie’s coarse sexuality.

By contrast, Act II opens against a backdrop of loud rock from Georgie’s boombox—Elvis Costello or Prince, the stage directions suggest. This shift to ragged and hard-driving melody juxtaposed against funky rhythms and edgy lyrics full of worldly swagger matches Georgie’s lower-class affect and free-wheeling use of sexuality. However, here too the music works ironically. As it blares, Georgie and Edward wrestle on her sofa, she trying to seduce him, and he suddenly overcome with emotional vulnerability. The chaos the music implies is no longer part of Georgie’s characters—by the close of the act, she will stop relying on aggressive sexuality and instead apply intellect to office politics.