After hearing all day Thursday about Kristy’s boot shopping adventures (selflessly offering my opinions via a flurry of dressing-room-picture text messages), I developed a major craving for some rocking knee-high boots myself. I don’t know if a person under 5’2″ can pull off knee-high boots, but that is a minor detail and I am not deterred.
Before I can buy boots, however, I have to buy jeans. As you may remember, about a year ago I had a Denim Epiphany, wherein I realized simply could not stand to have yards of fabric swirling about my ankles for one more minute and I hacked 6 inches off all my pants in a snit.
And then winter came about 15 minutes later and I had cold calves for the next 6 months.
However! My desire to have boots outweighs my dread of jeans shopping. Besides, isn’t this the year the skinny jean makes a return? Not only that, but I have a 30% off Kohl’s coupon burning a hole in my pocket.
I head out, ridiculously optimistic I will find something less elephantine than last year.
Sadly, I can’t find any jeans that are not boot-cut or flared cut or modern cut or whatever stupid name they are putting on jeans now to distract us from the fact that we are really buying BELL BOTTOMS.
Will the Seventies just DIE already?
Apparently not, as evidenced by this year’s latest trend: The Poncho.
Everywhere I looked, there were ponchos.
A poncho here, a poncho there….
Everywhere a poncho, poncho.
Actually, I quite like that last one.
If ponchos aren’t your thing, consider the Ruana. Which I have never heard of, but it’s obvious I am not exactly fashionable, so my ignorance is not a marker for anything.
The Ruana is similar to the poncho, if “similar” means Huge and Blanket-Like.
Perhaps you are wondering whether I got weird looks for taking pictures of all this stuff.
The answer is Yes. Yes, I did.
I received several suspicious glances from one guy in particular, who probably thought I was up to no good. He looked like he was considering reporting me to Security, but what kind of terrorist plot could a short, frumpy housewife wearing cut-off cargo pants be formulating?
I abandoned jeans shopping and headed to the shoe aisle. Even when Clothes That Fit elude me, I can always count on the shoe department to cheer me up.
You know, or not.
I found several rows of knee high boots. Victory is at hand! I cruised through the aisles, collecting a nice stack of boxes. I found a bench and started trying on.
First pair – Vera Wang. Could not even get them over my ANKLE. Fine. It’s Vera Wang, she is unfamiliar with women who weigh more than 80 pounds. I toss those aside and go for the next box. Get those on, but not zipped. Same for the next pair.
Maybe knee-high boots are not for me. I go through the rows once again, but can’t find any mid-calf boots.
I take my massive calves home, determined to find something online. It occurs to me vaguely that boot cut jeans really should suit me better, what with these horrendously gigantor legs.
As soon as I get home, I get on the internet and start looking for The Perfect Boot. You know the one. The sexy, black, easy to get on boot, that transforms me from middle age fashion disaster to pulled-together Woman About Town. Or Woman About Target, more accurately.
I see that the boot descriptions all offer measurements of the shaft (shaft!) and calf circumference. The boots I like have an 8 inch shaft (shaft!) and an 11 inch circumference. This throws me a thought to do some measuring of my own. I measure up my leg eight inches and then go around and get…..wait, the circumference of the boot is only eleven inches?
I remeasure, growing increasingly confused and annoyed.
I keep coming up with a number significantly larger than eleven inches.
I look at my legs, frowning. Is it possible that my calves are really so freakishly huge, yet somehow I’ve gone my entire life without noticing?
I measure my ankle at the narrowest, boniest, least fat-est part, trying to figure out what has gone so horribly wrong with my leg. It measures nine and a half inches.
Nine and a half inches. And the boots are made for a person with eleven inch calves.
Do you see what’s happening here? In order to wear knee-high boots, my calves should be only an INCH AND A HALF bigger than my ankle. An inch and a half!
Stupid, cheeky, non-fashion compliant legs.
I don’t know what kind of person has legs only an inch and a half bigger than a normal (yes? please?) sized ankle, but I dislike them all intensely.
Resigned, I hit the Wide-Calf Boots tab, happy that there might be a few options left in spite of my hideous disfigurement.
This is what comes up –
Wide Calf Ankle Boot