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ode to boots

February 9, 2010

I remember the exact scenario surrounding the purchase of these boots.

I was in the Target at Lenox, on the phone with my mom, wandering aimlessly (as I find myself doing so often in a Target store — their goal, of course). I’d described the boots to her and was debating the purchase, knowing I didn’t “need” them, but that I wanted them. (I also had a pair of yellow mini-wedges in my arms, but they’re not the subject of this tale.) I abruptly hung up the phone with my mom when a girl walked by wearing the exact boots about which I was struggling so greatly to make a decision.

I ran her down requesting she give me a live product review. My main concern was if they were comfortable aside from the 10-foot strut down the aislse of the shoe department — my other concern, whether they’d fit over my calves with jeans in between, wasn’t something she could assist with. After her positive testimonial, I spent the $35 and bought the boots. Another win for the Target corporation.

Two years later (maybe not even), it’s with great regret that I share with you the end of the life of these boots. I could make them go on, but sometimes euthanization is best for both parties. The boots took a walk to lunch with me on Saturday. Only a few blocks, with no major puddles, but when I got to lunch, one foot felt wet. When I came home and removed the boot, there was a big, wet spot on my left sock with a diameter of a few inches. The sole leaks. The integrity of the vinyl-rubber connection has been destroyed. This, in addition to the flopping rubber sole I noticed on Friday night, has confirmed what I’ve known was coming for a long time: it’s time to throw these boots away.

To wear your apparel to the point of destruction means you’ve gotten all the wear out of it that you can, but it’s harder to throw something in the trash than to throw it in a bag bound for Goodwill. There’s no second life here. They’ve had their chance, and they’re going to a landfill. The silver lining is that I know there’s a new pair of boots out there for me — perhaps a pair with a longer life or better assembly. I’ll find them, and we’ll be fast friends.

Maybe some of you aren’t like me. Maybe you don’t become personally attached to and emotionally invested in your wardrobe. Maybe you don’t name inanimate objects, either. (Who are you?!) But if you’re like me, then please take a moment of silence for me and the Kinseys.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. February 9, 2010 1:08 pm

    RIP, Grey Geese. I’m sure those boots lived a long life and you showed them all around ATL. Their life might not have been long, but I’m sure the cost-per-wear was worth it.

  2. February 10, 2010 12:53 am

    Oh no, RIP boots. This post made me a little sad…I’ve gotten a little too attached to my Target boots.

    I hope you find a great new pair that make you just as happy as you were with the Grey Geese.

  3. Jenny permalink*
    February 12, 2010 2:59 pm

    RIP! This just happened to my black ballet flats after two years. I was so attached to them.


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