The Dogs Are Happy
I don't mean to weird you out or anything like that, but I have to tell you how much I love my boots.
They're Timberland boots, which means they're well made. There's an outlet over in Kittery and we trot over there from time to time to see what kinds of bargains we can find. About four years ago I bought a pair of mid-calf Nubuck low-heeled boots with a zipper up the side. I have worn the stuffing out of them, and even though they're not waterproof anymore they still fit great, and with the right pair of socks, they're . . . well, it's like chocolate for my feet, if you know what I mean. Just . . . ahhhhh.
However, I couldn't bring those boots to Spain with me because they aren't waterproof anymore, and there's nothing worse than walking around in wet shoes that were supposed to stay dry. So, I bought another pair just before Christmas. Big sale -- you know -- I was all excited to save a butt-ton of money (as Amber would say), and I even found a pair of my favorite kind of socks to go with them. Yum.
Now, I need to explain something here. Where we're living in Spain is like the mecca for leather shoes.
And boots.
Every size, shape, color, style . . . and oh, the styles!
Just window shopping becomes a nearly spiritual experience. The store windows are beautifully set up, and the shoes . . . the shoes! Oh, my. (Pause for breath) I've never been to Italy; maybe it's the same there, maybe better, but I haven't seen shoes like these even in Manhattan. There are dozens of stores of all different sizes. 
They carry flats and heels and boots and slingbacks and even their plain, ordinary pumps are neither plain nor ordinary.
I never used to be a shoe gal, but this place has completely converted me. I carry a kleenex with me wherever I go to control the drooling. And, because it is the season of Rebajas (a very important Spanish word which essentially means Clearance Sales), I get to buy a few pair.
Lest you think me unfaithful, I am getting back around to the boots I brought with me. If you'll remember from past posts, we live up on a steep hill in an old neighborhood where the streets are mostly cobblestone. Treacherous walking in high heels. I love high heels. I used to dance for hours in 4" stilettos with nary a stumble. That was when I was young. Now I am old. I still wear heels, but only on flat surfaces. Not here where I live. Sometimes I carry my heels into town with me, in my purse, and change when I get down off the hillside. It works for my vanity.
However, it has also been very cold here . . . for Spain. For New Hampshire, this is April weather, but I'm not going there right now. When my feet are cold, hard stones hurt more through the bottom of my shoes.
Thus we come to my wonderful new boots. They are not high heeled. They are brushed black NuBuck, and not shiny in any way. They are fleece lined, but not really "UGG"-ish, either. They're kind of the red-headed stepchild of boots. I love them so much. They fit. They're water proof (I tested them in a three-hour jaunt across town in a deluge, so I could make sure a student got home safely the first few days we were here). And they're warm. I wear them nearly every day, unless the sun comes out and gets really friendly with us all here. Sometimes I walk up and down the cobbled streets of this hillside four times a day. Yesterday I was out visiting the families of our students for about four hours on foot. Even with all this abuse, my feet are happy.
Tonight the sky cleared off and the temperatures plummeted. John and I took a Friday night stroll through town for a couple of hours. I wore my cute new black jeans and my black boots, and even though I wasn't 'click-click-clicking' down the sidewalk like the stylish little things out strutting their stuff, I was happy because when I came home and took off my boots, my feet were warm and relaxed, and completely content to take another turn around the town, if I had decided to.
I'm still eyeing this darling pair of high-heeled black leather dress boots. They'll look great with skirts or tucked-in jeans, and I can go 'click-click-clicking' down the street, too, even if the stuff I strut is a little over the hill these days. My Timberlands aren't jealous, though. They know where my feet will demand to rest after a day of 'click-clicking' around town. Vanity can only take you so far, you know. Comfort is forever.
They're Timberland boots, which means they're well made. There's an outlet over in Kittery and we trot over there from time to time to see what kinds of bargains we can find. About four years ago I bought a pair of mid-calf Nubuck low-heeled boots with a zipper up the side. I have worn the stuffing out of them, and even though they're not waterproof anymore they still fit great, and with the right pair of socks, they're . . . well, it's like chocolate for my feet, if you know what I mean. Just . . . ahhhhh.
However, I couldn't bring those boots to Spain with me because they aren't waterproof anymore, and there's nothing worse than walking around in wet shoes that were supposed to stay dry. So, I bought another pair just before Christmas. Big sale -- you know -- I was all excited to save a butt-ton of money (as Amber would say), and I even found a pair of my favorite kind of socks to go with them. Yum.
Now, I need to explain something here. Where we're living in Spain is like the mecca for leather shoes.
And boots.
Every size, shape, color, style . . . and oh, the styles!
Just window shopping becomes a nearly spiritual experience. The store windows are beautifully set up, and the shoes . . . the shoes! Oh, my. (Pause for breath) I've never been to Italy; maybe it's the same there, maybe better, but I haven't seen shoes like these even in Manhattan. There are dozens of stores of all different sizes. 
They carry flats and heels and boots and slingbacks and even their plain, ordinary pumps are neither plain nor ordinary.
I never used to be a shoe gal, but this place has completely converted me. I carry a kleenex with me wherever I go to control the drooling. And, because it is the season of Rebajas (a very important Spanish word which essentially means Clearance Sales), I get to buy a few pair.
Lest you think me unfaithful, I am getting back around to the boots I brought with me. If you'll remember from past posts, we live up on a steep hill in an old neighborhood where the streets are mostly cobblestone. Treacherous walking in high heels. I love high heels. I used to dance for hours in 4" stilettos with nary a stumble. That was when I was young. Now I am old. I still wear heels, but only on flat surfaces. Not here where I live. Sometimes I carry my heels into town with me, in my purse, and change when I get down off the hillside. It works for my vanity.
However, it has also been very cold here . . . for Spain. For New Hampshire, this is April weather, but I'm not going there right now. When my feet are cold, hard stones hurt more through the bottom of my shoes.
Thus we come to my wonderful new boots. They are not high heeled. They are brushed black NuBuck, and not shiny in any way. They are fleece lined, but not really "UGG"-ish, either. They're kind of the red-headed stepchild of boots. I love them so much. They fit. They're water proof (I tested them in a three-hour jaunt across town in a deluge, so I could make sure a student got home safely the first few days we were here). And they're warm. I wear them nearly every day, unless the sun comes out and gets really friendly with us all here. Sometimes I walk up and down the cobbled streets of this hillside four times a day. Yesterday I was out visiting the families of our students for about four hours on foot. Even with all this abuse, my feet are happy.
Tonight the sky cleared off and the temperatures plummeted. John and I took a Friday night stroll through town for a couple of hours. I wore my cute new black jeans and my black boots, and even though I wasn't 'click-click-clicking' down the sidewalk like the stylish little things out strutting their stuff, I was happy because when I came home and took off my boots, my feet were warm and relaxed, and completely content to take another turn around the town, if I had decided to.
I'm still eyeing this darling pair of high-heeled black leather dress boots. They'll look great with skirts or tucked-in jeans, and I can go 'click-click-clicking' down the street, too, even if the stuff I strut is a little over the hill these days. My Timberlands aren't jealous, though. They know where my feet will demand to rest after a day of 'click-clicking' around town. Vanity can only take you so far, you know. Comfort is forever.
Love, love, love it! And, oh, the pictures dad posted almost had me drooling... I tagged my favorite! Seriously, so stinkin' excited to come window (and regular type) shop with you!
ReplyDeleteShoes, glorious shoes! You must post photos too!
ReplyDeleteI vote you get the dressy shoes. They sound fun....and if you don't end up liking them you can give them to me!
ReplyDeleteMcKenna -- it took me a minute to figure out who Dior was! Fun. And I did find some great boots finally -- two pair, actually. Your suggestion, however, reminds me that we forgot to get an important piece of information from you before you married Dan . . . your shoe size! These things matter, you know!
ReplyDelete4 hours in 4" stilletos, huh?
ReplyDelete4 hours, for hours, it's all about the same, isn't it? I would wear those crazy spike heels all day to classes, then head to the discos and dance all evening in the same shoes (please forgive me, it was the 70's afer all). I don't know how my feet took the abuse, looking back on it.
ReplyDelete