Boot Tale

So, despite the fact that I don't have a lot of them anymore, I really love shoes and boots. It's a woman thing, I think, that I share with most of my girlfriends. I recently was reminded about how far my obsession with shoes and boots used to go (used to...hah!) when reminiscing with a school chum whom I traveled to Europe with. We went to Paris and London - it was a trip entrenched with cultural activities designed to bore even the most avid historian or anglophile. And, while I remember the Eiffel Tower (yes, I really did take that photograph), Notre Dame cathedral, Buckingham Palace and all the other landmarks which are required tourist viewing, what I remember most, with eyes that glisten with the delight of my memory, was the BOOTS. Yes. The boots. THE boots. THE MOST AMAZING BOOTS I HAD EVER SEEN AND THEREFORE HAD TO POSSESS! They were in a small, out of the way shop in the heart of Chelsea - a shop that catered to rockers and mods as only London did back in those days. They were soft black lambskin leather, with four inch stiletto heels, toes so pointy I could use them as a dibbler to plant tulip bulbs with, and they went up to THERE! Oh, they were the most fabulous boots I had ever seen...I bought them, of course, even though it took all the money I had, plus some loans from my fellow travelers. As a result, for the last three days of my European vacation I drank only water and ate the inevitably stale 'biscuits' the British were so fond of serving along with meals, that my travel companions kindly left for me on the table. When I arrived back in the States, noticeably thinner, I strutted with pride across the airport terminal in my beautiful new boots. It was a GREAT trip!