I bought and then returned this pair of basically bovver boots twice before eventually keeping them. Twice! Can you believe it? I mean what the hell is wrong with me.
I’ll tell you what: I was sick of buying into trends that I know don’t suit me and that I know I won’t wear. I love the look of these boots on other girls, worn with cropped jeans, a grandad knit, an oversized hobo coat and a beanie hat. Maybe also with a small rucksack, accessorised with a dog such as a Jack Russell. But I know that, what with the neuroma in my foot, (which remains unsolved despite an alarming steroid injection,*) and my just general laziness I wouldn’t wear them.
But I wanted them, god damnit. I wanted to be one of those girls stomping about. There was another one, a mum at school I saw last winter. She was an early adopter of DMs-on-the-over-35s, (where they belong, frankly), and I saw her walking along in a patterned corduroy dress, DMs, a long black coat, the beanie and, yes, the dog. She looked terrific.
Anyway I tried the boots on once in Kurt Geiger and thought, who am I kidding? Then I thought “Maybe worn with the right things they will look okay” and ordered them online. They arrived and I tried them on with everything and even though they didn’t hurt my gnarled foot and I thought would break in reasonably quickly I thought “Nah, who am I kidding? It looks like a have each leg in a bucket” and I sent them back. Then I bought them a size smaller and my left neuroma foot literally screamed in pain when I took a step so I sent those back.
Then Kurt Geiger had a sale on and I bought them AGAIN, reduced, in my size, 38, and resigned myself to the fact that they might be one of those purchases that I just want to own and never actually wear. I try not to have too many of those.
ANYWAY. I persevered with them. In theory they are terrific as they do not, unlike other boots, stop just above the ankle, which is the most unflattering length on me ever. Instead they sort of hug my leg right up to the calf, which is just about acceptable.
I have been breaking them in with the help of Compeed, (the right back heel rubs a bit), during interminable, boring, necessary lockdown walks and wearing them with cropped jeans and old sweaters and a long black coat with the addition of a black corduroy newsboy hat that I feel makes me the rakish air of Saoirse Ronan in Little Women, but which my husband refers to as my “70s slag hat”. But yah boo sucks to him because the other day I bumped into my extremely rich and stylish friend Lindsay who said “I like your Heath ‘look'” and I was absolutely delighted for the rest of the day.
I’ve also had a crush on these from Russell and Bromley recently, but only in the way that I quite fancy Bruce Springsteen because he looks like my husband.
*I am 100% going to have surgery on this next, fuck it. It’s horrible to live with and physio doesn’t work.