Well, I need some boots.
No, not THAT kind of boot. I already have those...and as wonderful as my feet settle into them, and as many miles as they have trod without soaking up water, they are utilitarian. These boots are made for ....workin'.
Nope, the boots I'm pining for would be works of art, of whimsy, stacked heel, stitching, and as subtle as red lipstick or turquoise jewelry.
There is precedent. I've wanted boots ever since Trisha Yearwood dropped names in 'Hello, I'm Gone':
Got her suitcase all packed up
In the back of the pickup
Got her red knee-high Luccheses on '..
Or...perhaps it was Jerry Jeff Walker that started the itch:
And once you wear a pair of his hand-made boots
you know you'll never wear a store-bought pair
Charlie can tell what's wrong with your feet
Just by feeling them with his hand
And he can take a look at the boots you wear
And know a whole lot about you, man.....Charlie Dunn.
I haven't earned a pair of handmades, goodness knows. Just browsing the web led me to sites with beautiful leather boots more expensive than a brand new over sized leather couch.
In other words, one can have this:
or something between this....
Oh, so much vanity! Such exceptional over the top-ness! And why? What possible excuse does a flower grower on a dirt farm in northwest Missouri have for fancy feet?
Just one, I guess. I have a vision of my grandkids...or perhaps great grandkids...digging through my closet some day, like kids do. And since there won't be a long fur coat, or necklaces dripping with diamonds, or a tiara, or really any measurable amount of sequins, I'd like them to find these boots. I'm hoping they'll think their granny had some sass, a little mild eccentricity, and could trip the light fantastic.