Notes: These are a pair of cheap plastic boots from Old Navy. They were black, largely waterproof, and not terribly comfortable, but attractive enough and I had not angst at all about wearing them, so I wore them until a heel fell off. Which, admittedly, didn’t take that long.
So, emboldened by the knowledge that this was something I would get good wear out of, I set out to find myself a higher-quality replacement pair. I narrowed it down to these two, and then I had trouble narrowing it down any more.
The advice I got was unequivocal: Mary, Alice and Abigail all agreed that the brown pair was superior, in terms of appearance, wearability and price. Even a random lady in the Macy’s shoe department stopped and said she liked them. (Note to guys: women do that. It’s a thing.) So I bought them, but the black ones haunted me. What if something happened? What if some black-boot requiring extravaganza came up, and I was unprepared? And had I fully considered the fact that they had rhinestones in their soles?
I would try to stretch out the story here, to build up the suspense a bit more, but considering the above photo, I think we all know how this story turned out.