Sometimes, with a fashion fixation in general, will come an obsession with a single item. An obsession that seemingly comes from nowhere, and no matter how impractical or trendy the item might be, it won't leave well enough alone until you have it, or an approximation thereof, in your materialistic little paws. For me, this item is the Dr. Martens combat boot.
It's inexplicable. Every point of logic demands that I be repulsed by these high-fashion Frankensteins. But I adore them more than every graceful stiletto Christian Louboutin has ever made. But my true obsession began much further back, over a decade ago in fact. Let us all recall to 1997. Grunge was gasping its last breaths, but my older sister Iris (a true Gen-X fashion victim) was still faithfully in her steel-toed doc martens. My mother found them clunky, manly and simply hideous, and would scoff every time Iris would show up to dinner in her scuffs leather laces and not the staid crepe pumps she had bought for her. This only served to cement my sister's disdain for her new stepmother and strengthen my rebellious inclination as a seven year old for the anarchy of a man's workboot.
But I will soldier past my dissapointment and make them work. I have to turn down the cuff (they were described as ankle boots, but I think they would only reach the ankles of Gisele Bundchen) But I fear I will have to go shopping to procure want I most want to wear with them. What do I wear with them besides the obvious? A miniskirt? Denim cutoffs ala Camille of Childhood Flames? I am not nearly so lithe and it makes me nervous. Ideas, pretty please!
Isn't it glorious? The smooth, curving lines of the supple black leather, the overt masculinity that is covertly alluring when attatched to a pretty girl. I would be tempted to trace my infatuation back to a fateful day in spring when I first crossed paths with these clunky heeled chloe boots:
It's inexplicable. Every point of logic demands that I be repulsed by these high-fashion Frankensteins. But I adore them more than every graceful stiletto Christian Louboutin has ever made. But my true obsession began much further back, over a decade ago in fact. Let us all recall to 1997. Grunge was gasping its last breaths, but my older sister Iris (a true Gen-X fashion victim) was still faithfully in her steel-toed doc martens. My mother found them clunky, manly and simply hideous, and would scoff every time Iris would show up to dinner in her scuffs leather laces and not the staid crepe pumps she had bought for her. This only served to cement my sister's disdain for her new stepmother and strengthen my rebellious inclination as a seven year old for the anarchy of a man's workboot. But years have passed, and docs have come back in fashion. It girl Cory Kennedy (ala the Cobrasnake) is even their model for the ads. And they have grown expensive. A hundred and twenty dollars, while affordable in the shoe world, is a lot to ask from a broke college student. And were I requesting feminine sandals or practical leather riding boots from my mother, she might grant my request. But not for these, her most despised of footwear. What is a girl to do but to spring for cheap knockoffs? These, on sale at delia's for $29:
But I will soldier past my dissapointment and make them work. I have to turn down the cuff (they were described as ankle boots, but I think they would only reach the ankles of Gisele Bundchen) But I fear I will have to go shopping to procure want I most want to wear with them. What do I wear with them besides the obvious? A miniskirt? Denim cutoffs ala Camille of Childhood Flames? I am not nearly so lithe and it makes me nervous. Ideas, pretty please!
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