The Boots I Refuse to Retire

For the past three years, I've absolutely reveled in the first cool, crisp day of fall, the one where I can put on a cozy sweater dress and an equally comfy pair of tights. But the big highlight comes when I pull on my favorite pair of knee-high, black suede boots. They've been with me for a long time, and by that I mean almost 40 years.

Back in 1986, I was newly employed and working on the style pages of a national newspaper. My job mostly entailed schlepping clothes and accessories back and forth to photo shoots, loading film onto Hasselblad cameras, clipping noteworthy articles, and writing the weekly fashion events calendar. I was on the lowest rung of the fashion ladder, but I was determined to look like I was part of an industry I idolized.

Thus the excuse for spending a pretty penny on a pair of Charles Jourdan boots at Neiman-Marcus. Crafted from classic black suede with a flat sole that was perfect for navigating city blocks and Metro escalators, those boots made me feel chic, and a little daring, especially when I wore them around the not-so-fashion-forward newsroom.

Style vs. Lifestyle

Five years and two babies later, my favorite boots no longer fit (physically or metaphorically) my stroller and diapers lifestyle. It was a sad day when I wrapped these symbols of a different era into fresh tissue paper and stored them, in the original box, on the highest shelf in my closet.

They stayed there for years. Every so often when cleaning out that closet, I'd spot the box and consider a donation to Goodwill, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. Good suede holds up, I told myself, which was true but not necessarily the point. The real reason for the delay was that I was waiting for the woman in the knee-high boots and mini skirts to come out from the mothballs. 

So, I waited, and one day during the seasonal closet flip, my then-teenage daughter opened the box and asked, “Where have you been hiding these?” Suddenly, my sidelined footwear had a whole new life heading to parties and concerts with skinny jeans and leggings tucked inside. I was equal parts jealous and proud. 

Eventually the boots came back to me, the way things do when kids grow up and move on to their own closets and their own style purchases. By then it had been decades since I'd worn them myself, and my feet, like the rest of me, were not the same shape they were in 1986. But still, I couldn’t part with them. 

A Cobbler Saves the Day

Instead, I took them to my trusty cobbler, who rather dramatically ripped the soles off, right in front of me. What he discovered was that these high-quality boots had plenty of room to be stretched and widened so that they once again would fit like a glove. After a good cleaning and a new leather sole, he handed them back looking practically brand new. 

I did not expect to love them more than I did the first time around, but I do. Because now they are not just a reminder of the fun, ambitious girl I was back then, they hold memories of my daughter wearing them to step out into her own future. Today, they’re a statement of who I am now, a woman who still wants a little chic in her everyday style. 

A few weeks ago I stumbled across another really nice pair of boots. Modest kitten heel, tobacco brown suede, zip closure for easy on and off…I had to say yes. Now they sit in my closet side by side with my favorites from 1986. I can’t wait for the temps to drop.

I doubt I'm the only one with a version of this in my closet. Maybe it's a leather jacket that's been through two decades and one dry cleaner who swore they couldn't save it. Maybe it's a dress that got taken in twice and let out once. If you've got one, I'd love to hear about it.