2 posts tagged “fashion”
It feels like the boots have been breaking in me.
The leather is really thick and a bit malleable, but it will take time. But, walking in them for about a mile, I could feel it digging into my ankles, on that very bony protrusion that sticks out on my ankle. I don't know what that bone is called.
I came home, and on both of my feet, at exactly the same spot, the skin has been rubbed off, the blood on my socks. I didn't think it'd be so bad. But I expected this, after all they said we'd have to break them in.
And still, I didn't even change my shoes. I kept wearing the boots, even to dinner and then to my friend's house. And with every step, the boot scraped that same part of skin on each foot. And every time I acknowledged the pain, it felt worse. Why do I this to myself? Why do I suffer? For what? To look good? What a stupid reason. But I continued.
After a while, I didn't feel the pain anymore. I mean, the boots were still digging in, but I couldn't feel the pain. And that, for some reason, made me feel really good. It made me feel powerful. The boots themselves made me feel powerful and gave me this confidence that I've never had from something so trite, so small, so unimportant.
With each step, I felt, "This is not pain". This is no longer what pain means to me. A scrape of skin. No, that is not painful. The boots are heavy. And with each step, I could feel all the muscles from my calf up to my outer thigh working, getting stronger. I refused to drag my feet, wear down the heels, the sole. I took steps like a cowboy, determined, ready to draw.
It all felt connected somehow. The boot to the foot to the calf, to the thigh, to my hips and on and upward. And it affected the way I walked, sat, stood, everything it seems. I felt dangerous, dark, mysterious, powerful...stylish. Funny what a pair of boots can do.
Oh my gosh, how cute are these boys!?!?! Was visiting the Sartorialist site like I sometimes do, and this is his latest post: two lovely New Yorker boys in winter. Lovely, lovely. And look at their smiles! They're not all sullen and brooding like those models in CK ads or whatever. They look real.
Usually my standards for a boy does not include his clothing. I mean, I don't want him to look like a bum, but I didn't care about what he wore, but now after a couple of months in Paris and seeing loads of well-dressed boys and men in well-fitting clothing and nice color palettes...It got me thinking. It wouldn't be so bad if I dated a boy who looked like one of these guys or a boy who dressed nice and had style. I don't even care if he dressed better than me, but it would be nice if we had the same level of style. But these boys always seem out of my league. Ho hum...
Anyway, what got me started on this was seeing the post on Sartorialist and seeing my friend's boyfriend come to visit. He's an American too and he definitely has style with his Vans high tops (he also got a pair for his girl!), plaid button down over a thermal, and his friend's 4th grade jacket that fits him and tops off his ensemble nicely. He has great fashion sense, and so does she, and they're absolutely adorable together. This gives me hope!
It'd be nice to be with a boy you can go shopping with and for.
