I got the knee-high boots!
Well I don’t got them yet, exactly (me good English speak). But they’ve been ordered!
Remember I mentioned Duo Boots a wee while ago, purveyors of boots for all sizes? I went to their new Fitting Room in Edinburgh on the weekend. The shop is a nice oasis from the bustling high street. It’s bright and airy with all the shoes and boots along the walls. Immediately you are greeted by a Boot Wench (not official job title) who sits you down on a fancy couch and measures your gargantuan calves at their widest point. Then you tell her which styles you like and she traipses up and down the stairs fetching boxes.
They even treat you tenderly if you’re a Boot Amateur. I stuck my foot in, yoinked at the zip and wailed, "It doesn’t fit! I can’t belieeeeve I’m too big for your boots!" But the Boot Wench explained patiently that if I just stretched out my leg, even braced it against her if I needed to, then it would zip up just fine. OH.
I’ll never be a Girl Whose Legs Get Checked Out kind of girl. I’ve got big legs and they don’t ever seem to get smaller, just more… solid (trouser shopping is a nightmare). But I have to admit when I saw my sturdy calves wrapped in black leather I grinned and I grinned and I grinned. Oh baby. My posture changed instantly. I just felt… mrrrowr. It was like until that moment it never really occurred to me that I AM WOMAN!
Lately I’ve worried a little that I might be alienating you all with my random blogging – up and down like a yoyo, with moments of great lunacy and cheese. But would you mind if I be a cheesy loon just one more time? Don’t run away!
Anyway. There I was gawking and grinning in the mirror with my hand on my hip and my hip at a jaunty, hello boys angle when I had a sudden flashback.
I was nineteen and I was at Big W in Bathurst. Big W is like a poor man’s Target, if you’re not from Australia. I was in my second year of university and I’d outgrown all my shirts. It had taken me months to admit it – I’d started wearing the shirt unbuttoned with a t-shirt underneath, but then I couldn’t get my arms into the sleeves. It was a Thursday night, late-night shopping so there’d be less witnesses. My friends were all out at the university bar, I’d made yet another bullshit excuse for not tagging along. I was in the men’s section looking at flannel shirts, trying to find the one with the most X’s on the label. I remember putting on a red shirt and thinking I looked like a giant lumberjack. But I didn’t feel upset or angry or even, gee whizz I wish I could wear something smaller and sexier. I just felt numb and empty and quietly matter-of-fact that this was my life and this was what I had to wear and that was the way it was going to be. I bought the shirt then stopped at the supermarket for a 4 litre tub of Home Brand Ice Cream (student budget).
And now eleven years later here I was with impossible leather boots and a sudden desire to luxuriate in having this body; to dress it up nicely, instead of just pretending it didn’t exist.
The Boot Wench ordered my boots in brown (the ginger’s friend). They normally only take a week but mine were completely out of stock so it will be 4-6 weeks. Wah! I guess they have to hunt down some more cows to stitch together to get around my mega pins. In the meantime I want to try on every skirt and frock in the universe.
The best part of the Boot Experience was watching all the other chicks trying on boots. Duo don’t just do boots for big calves, they do narrow ones too. Basically the shop was filled with boot refugees of all shapes and sizes. All the sneakered masses who’d been cruelly turned away by so-called Normal Retailers for having legs too skinny, wide or muscley. I could have sat there all day watching them zip up their boots and squeaking with joy. The air was filled with elated murmurs, I’ve never fit into boots in my life. I can’t believe it. Look at meeee. Holy shit I’m so hott! One petite woman posed triumphantly in front of the mirror, winked, slapped her own arse and said, "YEE HAH!"
Who knew there were so many variations of lady legs out there, so many that had never known the soft caress of dead bovine. As someone who postponed her boot debut for so many years, I say to everyone out there… don’t wait! Whether it’s boots or lacy knickers or va-va-voom frock. Let’s rock what we got, right now.