Dear Urban Outfitters Boots,
I know it sounds like a corny line, but the moment I saw you in the early fall catalogue, I knew it was love. You're not my normal type: You're high maintainance suede, your heel is too low to cause me bodily harm, and worn with the wrong thing, your intricate latticework could be downright dominatrix. "Feirce", is not usually what people would use to describe my wardrobe. But I can change, oh believe me, I can change for you! I can be confident, I can be the Alabama version of Emmanuelle Alt, I can be the biggest badass on the block, if only you would come home with me.
The only thing that stands in the way of our love is your one-hundred and twenty five dollar price tag. Does it really have to be this way? I can barely afford food, I simply can't make room for you right now. I have waited, patiently, for months, for you to go on sale, but I am growing weary and heartsick. Why won't you be mine?
All My Love,