New Suede Shoes

It’s hard to part with an old pal.
I’ve had this one pair of boots for absolutely years.  They’re flat, and they’re a rather weird shade of brown.  They’re nothing special, I suppose.  But for some reason, I’ve loved them since the first day I saw them.

I’ve worn them everywhere.  Not to weddings or fancy do's, they’re flat ankle boots after all, but to work, or with my casual clothes.  I’ve brought them on holiday, and wore them every day in all that snow we had a few years ago.

I always assumed that when they finally gave up the ghost, I’d simply get them re-soled or re-heeled or repaired in some miraculous way that would ensure their immortality.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a pair of boots for so long.

The kind of damage they've now sustained is definitely irreparable.  It hurt a little bit, to finally throw them in the bin.  They've been a friend, those boots.  When I was in trouble in work, or having a row with His Nibs, at least my feet never gave me any trouble, encased as they were in the world's most comfortable shoes.  And I didn't take a single tumble in them, when the compacted ice on Abbey Street was causing people to drop like flies all around me.

I’ve always been a fan of shoes.  Of looking at them and buying them, I mean.  Not necessarily of wearing them, especially if they happen to come with a heel or a pointy toe. 
I like nice shoes, but I’m fond of my comfort too.
And from the day I found those boots, all other footwear had to start vying for my attention like never before.

I’m so fond of them, that for years if I said to His Nibs, usually late, and in a hurry to leave the house,
“Quick, quick, get my boots”

And if he decided to take the opportunity to have a quick little give out about how many shoes I own by saying

“Which boots?  God knows, you have so many, it's hard to know”

I’d yelp

“My boots, my boots, what do you think I mean?  My boots!”

Eventually, he got so used to seeing his wife in the same boots every day that he stopped asking, and just got on with the boot fetching.  
Sometimes he’s a marvellous husband.

One day last week, though, the left one started making a weird sort of puffy noise with every step I took.  I make a good few puffing noises as I walk around anyway, so I didn’t worry.

About two days later, sadly, the boots went to the great cobbler in the sky.  The sole actually split completely in half.  It’s never happened to me before, that I wore a pair of boots so much that they eventually  collapsed.  I could fit my finger in the space between the two halves of the heel.

 

I was distraught.  I got a bit dramatic, actually.  I started thrashing around a bit, and wailing, and wondering what I’d do now. 

Eventually somebody suggested that although I may have loved these ones, there are actually other boots available in the shops.  That God be with the days when I’d be almost vandalising my own shoes, just for an excuse to buy a new pair. 
That I should stop whinging, basically.

I grudgingly went out to look around the shoe shops.  I was unusually downcast. In normal circumstances, there’s nothing I’d like better than wandering around shoe shops, with a leftover birthday voucher in my bag.  But before I went in the door I’d already decided I’d never find a pair of boots to match those I’d lost.

They had a lovely pair of brown leather Chelsea boots, as it goes.  I’m very fond of a nice Chelsea boot.  I was absolutely delighted when they came back into fashion.  They were reduced by 25% and I didn’t even miss my tram, I bought them so fast.

When I got home, I took out one of the boots, and put it on top of its box.  I placed it between myself and the television, where I could glance at it on and off all evening. 

At first I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that I liked the boots as much as I’d thought I did.  That happens to me sometimes.  While I'm in the shop  I love something so much that I believe I can't carry on unless I get it.  Then when I get home I might find that what I've bought isn't actually that special, and I've wasted more money. 

I’m trying to stop throwing money around.  Money I don’t have, and cannot seem to stop myself from spending.  So these days, I look at things, decide I want them, and then leave the shop and don't return for about three days.  If I still like and want it, then I feel justified in buying things and do so without guilt.
I didn’t do that with the boots.  I’m not quite sure why it was so urgent that I get new boots on the actual day the old ones fell apart, but that’s what I did.
To make sure I hadn't made my usual mistake with the boots,  I set them up on the box for a full review and consideration.

I love them.  I don’t know why, but I’m taking it as a good sign, seeing as the last boots I loved as soon as I bought turned out to be my favourite shoes ever.

I wore them going out the following night.  I wasn’t going to a particularly Chelsea boot place, but did I care? I did not.  I even walked home.  I wasn’t in pain.  There was a bit of pinching, but I was well able to put them on again the following morning.

The next day, I sorted out a space for them on the shoe rack under the stairs.

And what did I find?  A really nice pair of brown suede Chelsea boots.  They’re very similar to the leather ones I’d bought on the Tuesday.  And I have absolutely no idea why I’ve never worn them, or why I never even broke them in.  I presume it must be because I loved the old boots so much I didn’t bother.

But they’re not leather, they’re suede.  So that’s not the same thing at all, is it?