Not wasting any time, we appropriately kicked the year off with a shopping trip, hitting up some unique, locally-owned shops for the first time. After a day spent re-acquainting ourselves and our dollars with our community, I was re-hooked on thrift-stores. Over the next several weeks Hannah and I repeatedly wondered why we had ever left them behind. Unique pieces and classic vintage styles that would never turn up at the mall were there, just waiting to be worn, for less than -- that universal symbol of affordable luxury and excess -- a latte. Not only were we finding a wider variety of styles than we'd imagined, the money we were saving was incredible.
Of course as we came down from our thrift-shop euphoria we realized that there were a few issues we hadn’t quite figured out. Does no new clothes include shoes? Maybe. I’ve seen some pretty great boots scored at thrift shops. What about underwear? Socks? No. No way.
Noodling these details presented us with an interesting position. I intended to purchase new boots even before we started the venture. I wasn’t sure about buying used shoes, even though I have friends who’ve done it. Should I, Could I, pass up new winter boots altogether?
This is where things get interesting. Forced to evaluate need, versus want, I know I can get by without new boots. I can also justify the investment in a great pair, and, with all the money I’ve saved on used clothes, feel that there’s room in the budget. The rather cheap boots I bought on a whim last year, as place-holders until I found something better, have served their purpose and are, not surprisingly, I whine to myself, “wearing out”. But, in rotation with my other shoes, they would get me through the winter, albeit, as anyone who’s seen my feet lately can attest to, not very comfortably.
With the cold damp already settling in, and my ever-futile attempt to appear as though I have it together (I mean, really, Chuck Taylors and thin, open-heeled Stillettos in the ¼ inch of muck we wade through this time of year...does that inspire confidence?), the desire to be fashionably well-outfitted seems, to me anyway, at least to verge on need.
With images of all of the shoes I do own competing in my head, here I am, forced to recognize that I do not need new boots. (Did I mention I’m only after a dark pair? I have acceptable brown ones, although they are a bit large and a little uncomfortable to wear...) However, even fresh in the face of these arguments (Literally. They are in my face.), I can not shake the sense that the quality of my life will suffer without new boots.
In my defense, I think that warm, dry winter shoes are tied to a deeper vein of human existence than most fashion wants. And, I've been planning to buy boots for a year, I just haven't found the right pair. And, as we’ve already said (See Blog 1), this is not about sacrifice. Of course, as I confront this, I can not help but to compare my “need” to that of those who are truly in need, facing a winter in the elements or without a house so littered with undervalued kicks that they pose a safety hazard (But I can't wear my running shoes to work!).
I often find myself musing on the luxury of my situation. I feel strong pangs of guilt, and more than a little anxiety. All right already! I don’t need the shoes.
But...if I find the perfect pair at a reasonable price, well, they'll last forever. And the right boots are such a hard thing to find. All right. I've made a decision.
With the two forementioned serviceable but not quite satisfying pairs of boots to serve as reminders of the fleeting joy of impulse purchasing, I have decided that I will purchase boots, but only if they are indeed, perfect (or reasonably close), and perfect now means not just form and function, but also sustainable in make and design.
My fantasy shoes are stylish, but not over-stated, will fit like a well-worn glove, will last for years, and will define my style at a glance. (I dare you to try and give only a passing glance to these beauties!) They will also be made by an artisan, someone who is paid a living wage, and has a say over the nasty chemicals they use, which is hopefully none, and the hours they work, which is hopefully just enough to feel satisfied. (Like I said, I’ll accept a reasonable echo.)
With that settled, Hannah and I decided to research the sustainable shoe market and see if there was indeed, such an option. Stay posted: Next installment of the Epic Shoe Quest coming soon. (Of course, I could skip all this and just buy used.)
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