Friday, May 14, 2010
It was cold and grey in San Francisco in the morning, with an onslaught of what is otherwise known as "June gloom", so I found myself reaching for boots again before heading out to meet with some artists at their studios. And yes, it was for another pair of cowboy boots that I reached. I hesitated before putting them on, as my therapist recently posited to me the phallic associations between boots and feet, so I've not been able to think about my boots the same since!
Nonetheless, I pulled on what I tend to think of as my "I can handle the attention" boots. I can't wear these when I feel like hiding, because they often elicit the "great boots!" comment wherever I go. While I don't always want to be noticed, I have come to find that with these boots I interact more with people around me who I don't know. Complete strangers who would otherwise rush by quickly on the street stop and make the "great boots!" comment, thus engaging me in a way so uncommon in a big city. And that I absolutely love!
Real examples: As we were all madly texting and checking our phones at the airport, these boots had the ability to stop the texting madness and make people talk to each other for a moment. At a trade show where we were all focused on booth after booth, these boots had the ability to get weary women out of our separate worlds and laughing with each other. And on a grungy sidewalk where I was ready to pretend that a homeless person was not part of my universe, these boots brought us together, if for only moment, to a land where "great boots!" delighted us both.
When I bought these boots on a lark in Dallas, I wondered if I would ever really wear them, and in fact, presented them to my daughter (who smiled kindly, and never wore them.) I had no idea the hold they would end up having on me.