She kept repeating,” It’s a Cinderella Story” as I walked around the store. I could see her point about it being akin to Cinderella but odder, yet not freakish. I wasn’t wearing a puffy dress or anything. The last time I tried anything the least bit puffed I looked into the mirror and thought those age old words “What was I thinking?” I turned to my ex who was watching and said that aloud and continued with “I look like a washer woman”. He paused a nano-second and said” yea, in an eastern block country”. Which was true, I took puffy back. But this Cinderella Story is about the slipper or cowboy boot in this case.
I was inDenvervisiting one of my best partners-in-crime Marsue and we were shopping at Cry Baby Ranch. This is a store we had found this past April on a road trip where we were on a mission to find her a new home. We went fromBouldertoDenver, toSanta FeandAlbuquerqueand back toDenverin 4.5 days. We were power touring the landscape to find a good fit. On that trip we found this fabulous store with great cowboy boots, western wear, kitsch and coolness. When Marsue chooseDenverand moved there I booked my ticket for playtime and that we did. We retuned to the store and were touring around the goods and wandered back to the boot section. We were checking out the budget cowboy boots at $295 and the high end customs are at $795 playing “what would you buy if you had money” … a good job, ok any job. There were two very nice sales girls who had been chatting us up and one came back to see if we needed anything. She gave us the details on the boots we were looking at. I told her this was all about looking that funds were low. She was joined by the second sales clerk who was talking boots to us as well. She looked down at my feet and paused mid sentence.
“What size are you?”
Before I answered her she continued with “you have really long narrow feet”.
“Yes, I know, my sister used to call them 2×4’s growing up”.
“I have some dead stock in men’s boots that have never been worn and are years and years old, vintage almost. Men don’t have feet that narrow and women don’t have them that long usually. Wait here”.
Ya, I was aware of both those facts and happy it made her day. I also was interested in what she had as I do love cowboy boots and don’t have a good pair anymore. I understand to some folks that is an oxymoron but hey I lived inTexasa few years and have a keen appreciation for fine footwear.
The clerk came out with three pairs of boots. All of them very nice looking I would have gone home with any of them really.
“These were made in the 50’s or 60’s and are called ‘dead stock’, nobody has worn them” she said as she dusted them off.
It sounded like it was all that was left after they bought some cool old boot stock from a warehouse or something.
I tried on all three pair which was no small feat, only narrow, because at least two of them were so tight in the bend to get into the foot part that I am sure nobody every tried them on. It took some huffing and puffing to get my 2×4 into the boot. Now let me be clear here, I don’t have the condition known as cankels. Which for those who don’t know are calves that go right into ankles with no sliming or discernable difference in shape or size. I am small boned and don’t have that feature, I have many other features that are as challenging to dress around but not that one.
There was one pair of boots that fit especially well, almost perfect. They were black, long and pointy that I could not help but fall in love. They were old school killing roaches in the corner kind of boot, almost comical but in a cool way. Nancy Sinatra eat your heart out. The young sales girl was chanting Cinderella the whole trying on of the boots. She was more excited than I was that she thought of the dead stock, and I was pretty damn excited. She called the owner to confirm the tiny price for these custom killer, skinny boots and I was sold. I tried them on one more time and wandered up and down the store to make sure I could and would wear them. I know that no matter how cool, pretty, etc. a shoe is I have very sensitive feet. I am a delicate flower. There have been vacations where my travel companion looked down at my band-aided sandaled feet and counted 12 band aids. We walked a lot and I had some rubbage. I love to walk and just muscled up piled on the Curads and kept going. I will avoid any shoe in my closet in general is there is any foot to shoe conflict.
These were stiff bottomed but felt better and better as I paced the store. I didn’t feel like Cinderella per say. That could have been because I was wearing camouflage surfer shorts, a tee shirt and black cowboy boots. At least I had the sense to tuck in the knee socks the sales clerk loaned me to try on the boots. Cinderella no, I felt, and looked a lot more like Bill Murray in “Caddy Shack”. His dialogue from the movie kept playing in my head “Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former greenskeeper, now, about to become the Masters champion. It looks like a mirac… It’s in the hole! It’s in the hole! It’s in the hole!” I had that sound track each time I got a glimpse of myself in the long store mirrors. Mirrors are a funny thing, they are like portals. You are one place in your ego, in your head and then you take a look and are transported. Whoa Nelly, you land eons from where you were. Sometimes it is in an eastern block country with a scrub brush wearing a silk, gray, crinkly puffy dress but other times you are wearing kick ass cowboy boots that go with everything! Life is good, Yippee-ki-yay all.