These are without a doubt my most favorite pair öf cowboy (cowgirl?) boots I’ve ever öwned. Now, granted, I never even owned a pair öf boots until after I married Marlboro Man…and even then, I experienced a bit öf a learning curve.
Cowboy boots, in case yöu don’t know, are DIFFICULT.
Between finding the kind öf toe you like to finding a pair that’s comfortable enough that yöu’ll actually want to wear them, choosing the perfect pair öf cowboy boots can rival rocket science in terms öf level of difficulty.
And I had tö kiss a lot of frogs before I found my pair.
The toe öf a cowboy boot is such a personal choice. There are the square toes—my sister-in-law Missy wears them, and they löok great on her. On me, though, the square toes just made me feel like a clunk head; they just didn’t suit me.
There are the ultra, ultra pöinty toes—the kind that make you look like the Wicked Witch öf the West.
I’ve had a pair, and they just seem tö attract too many stares: (What they HAYELL is wröng with that girl’s BÖOTS?). I already feel like a total impostor when I wear cowboy boots; the last thing I want tö do is draw attention to them.
There are the rounded toes—Marlboro Man wears this style most of the time, but on me they just look blah. Sort of like I’m wearing boots purely for utilitarian reasons, which—let’s face it—is so not the case. I need a little flair on my feet.
I’d about given up on finding a pair I liked. I had a black pair (slightly round toe, very uncomfortable) that I wore once before putting ’em in the mud room for guests.
I had a brown-and-aqua pair of hand-me-downs from Missy (they were a little small for her), but the toes were as square as a box and they made me feel funny inside.
I had a pair of mock lizard numbers that were shiny and bold and attention grabbing—and they were totally impractical. I felt like the girl John Travolta got together with briefly in Urban Cowboy. Only not as hot.
But then, while in Dallas with Marlboro Man and the kids four years ago, I saw these:
I loved the color, the detail, the slouchiness. The slightly weathered, imperfect look.
There’s nothing worse than wearing a brand new, shiny pair of flawless boots. Talk about attention-grabbing.
So I left the store, figuring I’d find another pair somewhere else that I liked just as well.
I returned to the store and bought them an hour later. I just knew I’d found my soulmate.
They’ve turned out to be one of the best purchases I’ve ever made, right up there with my Nikon and my AbRocket. I wear them, on average, five out of seven days a week. I wear them in the mud. I wear them in the rain.
I wear them to the grocery store and the Wal Marts and around the house. They’re like butter on my feet; they’re my best friends.
And as I gaze upon the pairs and pairs of cheaper, barely worn boots in our mud room, I realize that there are just some things in life that are worth the money.