Showing posts with label accessories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label accessories. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

galloping boot love


Winter accessories are fun. Unlike hats, I don't name boots, even though they are high on my list of essential accoutrements. I've been crazy about boots since my first pair of rubber button-tab fold-overs. They looked just like the ones in the picture, only mine were white.

They were designed to wear over shoes, and were impossible to remove without taking off the shoe in the process. Even though they were waterproof, they were not quite tall enough to keep out deep snow, and just rubber enough to hold in melted snow. Even so, they made me feel invincible. They still do; boots are sexy, hip, and clip-clop when you walk.

I galloped everywhere as a child. Boots enabled me to splash in every puddle. One day, on my way home from school, in Michigan's spring thaw, I spotted the puddle of all puddles. This one required a running start. I backed up, galloped as hard as I could, leaped as high in the air as possible above the puddle.

What I didn't understand, was that the puddle was a hole near a construction site. I splashed alright; all the way up to my neck. It was a challenging, water-logged crawl out of the slippery mud. After dragging myself home, like a drowned mud-rat, my mother didn't believe me when I said I had just been slashing in a few puddles.



A few of my current favorite puddle-splashers...


Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Doesn't everybody name their hats?


It comes as no surprise that I like hats. I wear them year round, but it's especially fun to wear them in winter. With the approaching Polar Vortex 2, little brother of Polar Vortex, I will most likely be wearing a woolly hat indoors. It's good to have a proper cold winter. I've enjoyed Edna, my vintage poodle hat, named after my dear friend, Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Not many wear them in my neck of the woods, so I get pleasant looks of surprise when I show up around town in wild vintage hats. It's no fun to dress without accessories. In 1950s rural Indiana, a woman dared not show up to church without her best hat, pocketbook, and gloves. My favorite thing to do in church, besides eating Grandpa's butterscotch Lifesavers, was to look for Margaret Mabbit, the woman with the feathered hat and bright red lipstick. When we rose to sing the doxology, she looked like a lovely Sendakian parrot, happily singing on her perch.

“What the hell is that?" I laughed.
"It's my fox hat."
"Your fox hat?"
"Yeah, Pudge. My fox hat."
"Why are you wearing your fox hat?" I asked.
"Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox.” 


  John Green, Looking for Alaska