These are my boots. There are many like them, but these are mine.* I often wear them on wet days. Together we have travelled through many parts of Australia, New Zealand and Europe. In these boots I can stand up all day long and not get sore feet. They provide my feet and ankles with a hard leather exoskeleton, supporting and protecting them from awkward sideways movements. The fact that they are leather is significant. Leather requires care. I have enjoyed heating them in the oven and then lovingly applying bees wax as a waterproofing agent. The warm leather melts and absorbs the wax, producing a marvellous smell and greasy texture.
These boots are heavy and they lend me a sense of weight. I feel confident in these boots. I imagine that they make my feet sound imposing as I advance along corridors. Indeed, in these boots I advance and never retreat. With their enclosing leather and thick, insulating, rubber soles, these boots attach me to the earth. Whilst wearing them I will not easily be knocked over by anything!
And the red laces are also a great conversation starter ...
* 10 Commonwealth Bank Award points for anyone who can name the film I am riffing on with this line.
3 comments:
check out the post about your oldest shoes - action 011. http://thecenterforimprovedliving.blogspot.com/2007/04/action-011.html
oh! I feel so betrayed by my boots! I am really angry with them for letting me down on the Milford Track. Stern words have passed from my lips and all they do is sit there smuggly emiting that waxy scent you like.
The skin on my heels is still a different colour to the rest of my feet (although admittedly it has been a fascinating exercise in watching new skin grow and wound healing).
To my Scarpas:
Why don't get out of my life and shut up!
I don't ever want you on my feet again!
Perhaps they didn't like me because I didn't buy them red laces.
Yes, I understand how you feel, but how do these boots feel about you? Are you not, as some may be inclined to think, a colonial bootlegging usurper who has invaded their space (conceived, perceived and/or lived) only to openly and flagrantly stand overthem. Do you, by your towering presence, impress your whole being upon them and oppress their soles with every step you take on your worldy journeys? Such things trouble me, deeply. I have written because I can no longer hold my tounge laced to me eyes that see and demand I speak out for those boots condemned to servitude ... freedom, Freedom, FREEDOM for all!
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