They seemed like a good idea at the time—the tall black boots in the green box with the pink clearance sticker. So perfect were they in their cardboard nest of tissue paper and silica gel packets, I felt no need to bother with inconsequential matters such as reading reviews online or even trying them on before purchase.
When the day finally arrived—60 days and a 30-degree temperature drop later—for me to wear them, they seemed like everything I had imagined they would be. They were stable enough to climb five stories at work without wobbling. They looked good with A-line and pencil skirts alike. Best of all, their zipper-free design kept them from snagging my tights as had all their snaggletoothed predecessors.
I floated on snag-free, Clark Artisan comfort all day long. And then the time arrived for me to remove them. That’s when I discovered the flip (and darker) side of zipper-free boots. They may not devour tights, but no matter how stretchy the material, they are nearly impossible to take off without the assistance of another person or a hydraulic rescue tool.
The pink clearance sticker suddenly made sense.
For the most part, I’m able to wear the boots these days without incident. I try to plan their wear for when I know somebody will be available (and willing) to remove them. That person is usually my daughter. It’s humbling to need a 6-year old’s assistance undressing, but I’ve made peace with it as restitution for all the diapers I changed.
But I don’t always plan so well. Sometimes I forget and wear them to work on days when I need to work out over lunch. That’s when I must resort to my best yoga-contortion moves in the most discrete corner of the gym’s locker room I can find, which isn’t very discreet at all. That’s also when I pull a back muscle.
Replacing them would be like throwing the baby out with the bath water. Apart from being semi-permanently affixed, they are the perfect boot. Some days I think I’ll never replace them. And then I look at this picture…
And I know I will.
There is always a hidden cost.
Indeed
Not that I can completely empathize with your zipperless plight, but I do have a pair of leather, Mark Ecko mid-top leather boot/shoes that I have gotten more feminine appreciation of than all other shoes combined. They look great; they feel PRETTY good. But OMG do they make my feet sweat (and stink)!
Oh no– just like jelly shoes do!
I so feel your pain! However, that’s a small price to pay for good boots. I mean, better you can’t get them OFF than can’t get them ON! Have you tried a mega-sized shoe horn?
I hadn’t considered a mega-sized shoe horn. Scissors, yes. Shoe horn, no. Your idea makes more sense.
That is the perfect picture!
Your bed looks just like mine, with all the laundry all over it.
I came over here from: http://crtlifeasweknowit.wordpress.com/2012/01/12/my-liebster-blog-award/#comment-4666 — Congratulations on your Liebster Blog award!
This line made me laugh out loud, “The pink clearance sticker suddenly made sense.” Ha! Too true. Been there.
I considered apologizing for the presence of laundry, but hoped readers– such as yourself– would understand. Thanks for understanding! And thanks for the head’s up about my liebster award. I knew I should have taken German in high school.
I know absolutely nothing about perfect black boots. I have owned black boots, but they were of the faux-fur lined snowboarding variety, and perfect they were not.
I don’t think you should feel bad about the laundry on your bed. It implies that you do laundry. This is an attractive personality trait and you shouldn’t feel compelled to hide it.
Ha! Good point. From now on, I’ll try to have all my backgrounds include mops and such
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I am most impressed that you don’t use “I’m wearing the gracefulness-death-boots” as an excuse for not exercising on those days where plans meet footwear. I’d totally use it as an excuse, so kudos to you!
Lunch invites are my typical ticket out of lunchtime workouts; stubborn shoes, not so much.