E bought me my first pair of cowboy boots for my 19th birthday. I'd been clamoring for a pair since I was 16 but various twists of fate and a lack of money had kept me from fulfilling my dream. The pair E bought for me were "urban cowboy" boots, round-toed and square heeled. They looked a lot like these:

I'd tuck my Levis into them and stride across campus. Those boots made my long lean runner legs look even longer and leaner. This was the beginning of my love affair with boots.

In the mid-80s I lived in Oklahoma and bought two pairs of sharp-toed, cowboy-heel wonders--one with a tall shaft and a harness strap and the other with a shorter, slightly flared  shaft, weathered leather, and tarnished silver buckles.  The latter was my favorite. Oh, I felt mighty fine in those boots and even bought a leather jean belt with silver conchos on it (just like Bruce Springsteen wore during his Born in the USA days). I had a pair of dangling concho earring from Shepler's and some Native American jewelry from New Mexico to complete my look, but I was still wearing Levis because no matter how long I lived in Oklahoma I was NOT going to be a Wrangler grrrl. I knew WHO I was, after all, and I wasn't going the Wranglers, ropers, big hair and big belt buckle route no matter how many cowgirls crossed my path. (Right, Kelby?) 

In addition to my cowboy boots, I also had the ubiquitous black leather riding boots of that era, and later square-toed high heeled boots. They were wardrobe staples, but they never made my heart race. They weren't sexy. They weren't sassy. They were just boring. Not like these boots:

These are my famous "wicked little boots,"  subject of much discussion and debate. It's hard to appreciate all their sharp-toed, pointy-heeled glory in this photo, but let me tell you, they make my black velvet jeans sing AND when I wear them with tights and a dress, I feel unstoppable and daring. E calls them the "Grinch shoes." Bernie calls them my "pixie boots." You can guess which description I like better.

When I left Oklahoma, I took my scruffy weathered-leather cowboy boots with me to Virginia, but over time the shape of my foot changed (along with the shape of every other part of my body--sob!) and they no longer fit me perfectly. I've kept them all these years simply because I like to just set them out on the hardwood floors, admire their hardy lines, and let them stir my soul and my memories. Those boots could tell STORIES--the places they've been, the adventures they've known. I had an eye out for replacements, but life on the fringe of the far flung D.C. suburbs isn't conducive to shopping for cowboy boots.

I did, however, see some in a catalog that I adore, Isabella Bird. They offered a number of styles I liked, but my favorites by far were the Prairie Flower boots. For years I eyed those boots and for years I talked myself out of buying them. Then lo and behold, two weeks ago I noticed they were on sale. And when I say on sale, I mean ON SALE. We're talking about 70 percent off.  It took less than a minute to go online and order them. BAM!

Aren't they gorgeous? Real cowboy toes and heels and just the right bit of decorative stitching. I'll be striding into the next stage of life with confidence and power in these babies. Won't it be fine to be back in the South again....

December 29, 2007