I’ve never been much of a shopper. I’m most certainly not a shoe shopper, much less a boot shopper. I’d rather sit in the dentist’s chair than shop for shoes. (Okay, I exaggerate).
But I have only ever bought one pair of boots a year, and I wear them down till I’m walking on metal or nubs of heels. And I have only ever owned ankle-high boots — I have thick(er) soccer thighs that don’t lend to knee-high boots.
But it all may have changed this fall. Oh yes. I found a pair of boots I fell in love with — boots that make me smile and dance and twirl when I put them on. I wear them with skirts and with jeans — and I can walk home the two miles from work in them. They were pricey, but I bit my tongue and splurged.
And they are more than worth it: They’re the boots that keep on giving. I get compliments on them nearly every day I wear them — from the 50-something white manager with round glasses at Safeway: “Darlin’, I love your boots!” to the hefty black man waiting for the bus: “Damn baby, nice boots.” There was the lady who grabbed her lover’s arm as she passed me, “Did you see those boots?!” There was my coworker who told me one day in the bathroom she would wrestle me to the ground for them. And then my other coworker, who after two months of admiring them finally decided she would buy them for herself — the best form of flattery! — but she discovered they’re on back order till February.
I love my boots, I love my boots!