Tatten 10-28-15 words:296
Cowboy boots hold an exalted station in the pantheon of Americana; gone global like Apple, Nike and Calvin Klein, although most wearers have never even touched a horse.
The boots say something about the person, marking a rugged, independent individual. They make a little authoritative click on the floor, not soft and timid like regular shoes. And heck, no one ever said they’d rather die with their sneakers on.
We can thank the cowboys for the styling. They demanded high sides to protect against rattlers, pointed toes to slide into stirrups, with heels thick to prevent slipping all the way through. And the smooth bottoms help when scraping off horse and cow crap.
Easy slip on and slip off, for summer or winter, they go with all clothes- for work, or the bar or a black tie bash, (although they do make you walk a little pigeon toed). With a few hundred bucks and a trip to Texas, you could pick from alligator or armadillo or rattlesnake skin – racks and racks in one of many crowded cowboy boot emporiums.
Black or brown, red, white, it doesn’t matter. But under or over does; the jeans, that is. Men wear theirs under, (only Hollywood city slicker dudes could wear boots with tucked in pants). But, like Annie Oakley, women prefer to show theirs outside, even with shorts or a party dress. It gets a man’s attention, and I’m told a gal might sometimes wear nothing but.
As a farmer boy with a pony named Tex, I discovered mine early. And when I wore them to my new school on the first day of fifth grade, I got some laughs but also the attention of Linda Turini, who fell hard for the boots and married me twenty years later.