These are the Glam Fab heels — pointed, polished, and tall enough to qualify as a structural concern. The finish catches light the way Kelli catches a read mid-sentence (ask Drew, ask Kenya, ask the couch). Heel high enough to ruin a man’s posture, ankle strap delicate enough to make you behave, a sole that clicks across a Bravo soundstage like punctuation. Worn to the reunion where Kelli, newly minted peach, held her own against women who have been holding fruit since the Obama administration.
Yes, the price is rude. So is wearing flats to a reunion. Acquire.


