Ode to the Compassionate Cowboy Boots

This is not a food post nor a lyrical poem, rather it is an effusive gush post about my long-coveted black faux-leather cowboy boots. Before moving on I must apologize to my foodie-followers for this unapologetic display of commodity fetishism, but there is just something about those kickin' no-nonsense boots!

Ok, I must admit that I have always been smitten with the tough, traditional style of the cowboy -- let's not get confused with cowgirl here, these are decidedly not-feminine and I am most assuredly ruining any faint sense of style that I may have possessed prior to owning this pair -- boot. It has long been my logic that owning a pair of these boots would get me that much closer to owning the thing that all little girls dreamed-hoped-wished-desired-cried-begged-for most of all in the world - a pony. From the cradle I was rocked to sleep, as many children are, with the dream that "Daddy 's gonna buy me a Shetland pony" and a promise the if it runs away "Momma's gonna buy me another one some day," of course I wanted a pony! But, like most of the girls clinging on to this very same dream, I never did reach the next step of actually owning a pony, but I will never forget what it felt like at seven to know that my boots were a link to that impossible dream. Each time that I slipped those snug, heavy-heeled boots on I felt as if I had a key to another world, a world so near that I could perhaps walk there if I tried.

It turns out that twenty-three years later they are a key, perhaps in more of a Proustian way, but a key nonetheless to a more lighthearted, dreamy side of myself. I was convinced that if I were to acquire a pair of these babies that I would be able to feel like I did when impossible dreams weren't out of the question. So I set out to find the ultimate pair of boots. The problem was however, that I had since become vegan, and even though my veganism might not be as dedicated as others (I don't throw away the leather that I already owned pre-veg days) it seemed fitting to look for a compassionate way to feel comfortable in my boots, so to speak.

But where does one find stylish vegan boots that don't look like shiny pleather majorette booties? I wanted the worn and rugged look of shoes fit for an ancient race. I searched far and wide and was willing to fork out a small graduate-student fortune. Finding nothing, I had all but given up my search when a small impossible dream came true - my husband, through no prompting of my own, gifted me a pair of simple black vegan cowboy boots for my 30th birthday.

Now, I am not a dedicated materialist (as my fashion sense painfully makes clear) but I love these boots (Steve Madden if you must know). I feel like I could weather the post-apocalypse in them. They let me be bold, they offer me a peek back at myself in more carefree times, they are compassionate, they remind me of my husband's thoughtfulness, and they are simply awesome!