At first glance, they are just square-toed boots.
Every time I clean out my closet, I open their box, look at them, and think that I should really get rid of them. I can't even wear them anymore... I actually tried today and they kill my feet. Ever since I had foot surgery, a 2 inch heel is about as tall as I can really handle for 8+ hours. (Not to mention they're 10+ years old and not really even in style anymore.)
But the thing is - they aren't just boots.
They're the boots that I bought after I broke-up with a loser of a guy. I couldn't afford them. I probably went without food for a week and was late paying credit card bills, but I had to have them. There is something about tall, black leather boots that make you feel like you can conquer anything.
If you look closely, you'll probably see spots on the leather from tears I shed. I wanted so badly to "save" that loser of a guy. I was going to be the one good thing in his life. I was going to show him what love could be. Pssssh. That dude lied and cheated in every way, shape and form possible. But I still cried over him. Plenty.
Do you see the scuffs on the toes? That's because I wore them out. Because I still went OUT. 6th street, dive bars, parties.... I remember right after I got them, I went to a house party with Amy. I don't remember too many details, just that the Outkast song "Hey Ya" had just come out and we were dancing around, shaking it like a polaroid picture.
The high heel was important because I needed SOMETHING to back up my sass. I could give a man a look at the bar that would scare him and make him wither in his seat. And I may or may not have gotten feisty if another girl stole my seat or shoved me as she was walking by, etc. I wouldn't have known what to do if I ever actually got in a fight, but at least I had my boots on. I had no fear.
Maybe it is wrong for shoes to be a defining factor of a period of your life. But that's what these are to me. They told me I was beautiful, I was strong, I was fun, I was capable, I was worth it. I might be crazy to say that shoes told me what I was. But it is true.
I guess it kind of feels like these boots represent a time of whimsy... freedom.... youth. (Isn't 36 too young to be sentimental about things like this?)
When I clean out my closet, I know it is time for these to be retired.
Maybe next round.