These Joan and David boots are deeply on sale at Lord & Taylor and sold out everywhere else. They're the last pair. They are a half-size bigger than I wear and excessively tall, but they seem comfortable. And since I seem to choose much of my wardrobe* by how well it would look on horseback, I think they're perfect:
I resisted buying them on Friday. I resisted buying them today. I torture myself with a sort of Russian roulette game.... if they're still there the third time, maybe it's fate. Or maybe the fourth time.... And I get a zillion extra steps from visiting them so much.
I also interrogate myself, rather like Jane Eyre used to do when she needed to control her wilder impulses:
Do you need another pair of boots?
I need boots like I need... another cat.
Didn't you already get three new pairs this winter?
Um, yeah... but I'm wearing one pair all the time, and another pair is just for snow. Remember snow?
Don't change the subject. Can your closet even hold another pair of boots?
No. I'm already keeping my rubber rain boots out in the hall because boots explode from my closet whenever I dare to open the door. I keep boots by my desk, boots by the fireplace....
Actually, these would look great by the fireplace... so Ralph Lauren-y. I could get some wooden boot trees, the kind with shiny brass knobs on top.... boots as objets d'art.
How can you possibly justify this frivolous, unnecessary, not-insignificant purchase?
Must you be so mean and Puritanical? As you know, I only have one measly pair of brown boots. All the rest are black! And these are "chocolate," whereas mine are closer to "pecan." Plus, these look just like my field boots from my horseback-riding days. With the brilliant addition of a zipper. Those boots were talismans of perfect happiness. Maybe these are, too.
Really? Even though one of those precious boots always got caught in your stirrup each time you were thrown? Do you fondly remember your knee brace, your crutches, your cane, the months of limping and physical therapy?
Oh, stop! I get your point. Leave my nostalgia alone. I'm under a lot of stress these days.
If I let you alone, you're going to surrender and buy these, aren't you?
Well, if you insist... but you must make them a reward for completing a difficult task. You have to clean off your desk, which means filing all your papers and shredding what you don't need to keep any longer.
Oh my god.... I think I have enough boots.
* It seems I've chosen the remainder on the basis of how well I'd blend in at a convent retreat house (black turtlenecks and long, severe skirts) or summering on Mount Desert Island (faded shorts, striped tees, flip flops, fleece).