Some women love stilettos, some women have a weakness for boots. I belong to the latter.
My first pair of boots was a pair of Doctor Martens (“Doc-Marcs”) at 16. A basic black pair of 8-eyelets. I think it cost well over a hundred dollars, a big chunk of my monthly allowance then. I saved and saved up for them. My mum hissed at the sight of those ugly, unfeminine boots, but I love them to bits.
It was also impractical, in the warm humid Singapore tropics. But in those heady days of youth, I wore them everywhere, with short flora printed dresses, love beads and beanie caps, with too-loose jeans that hanged off my butt, with denim cut-offs and tiny tees. Those boots were heavy and at the end of most days, I had to drag my feet on the way home.
At 30, again I fell for a pair of “Doc-Marcs”, the glitz-up version of the basic black pair, a 10-eyelet, with satin ribbons for laces, and gold-rimmed studs. If the boots were impractical then, this glitz-up version is even more impractical now, not to mention they are at $400 a pop.
But I could feel my inner, (younger) rocker chick surfaced with those boots.
As age and experiences catches up with us, we are often torn between choosing the practical, down-to-earth, the well-trodden path and that which is just slightly kooky and eccentric. And is it a sign of growing up (perhaps?) that I will put back that $400 pair of shoes back to its shelves (even though I’m drawing a salary), whilst I will starve so as to buy that $100+ pair 14 years ago?
In the end, I did not buy the glitzy “Doc-Marcs”, I bought a sensible pair of patent red wedges instead.
But damn, I still want those boots, if not to wear, than to remind myself that there is still a inner, younger rocker chick who’s just slightly eccentric and kooky on the inside.