I'm 38 today. God, I'm starting to feel like the Kim Cattrell of Sex and the City (aka 'Three Yuppie Hookers and Their Mom') of the fetish world. I need more cats, and neighbourhood children to frighten.
And *dammit* I meant to get the wishlist up by now - maybe by Xmas.
I am going to do what most gleefully child-free and single women do on their 38th birthdays: get thoroughly drunk on overpriced martinis, flirt with the 23-year-old bartender, embarrass myself on several dancefloors to this song, and buy an outrageously expensive face cream tomorrow.
Something that has been bugging me (because silly things like this do)...people are freaking out over Britney "dear God give this girl lithium, stat" Spears and Lindsay "one woman crime spree' Lohan - meanwhile, Dita's ex is having a rather public drug and alcohol induced meltdown. The record and tour bombed, and his interviews are a shining example of fuckupitry.
While I'm TEAM DITA 100% - dammit, I used to adore Manson. Lohan can go do porn for all I care - I want Brian Warner to get his collective shit together and make me like him again.
There comes a time when out of pity, or even common decency, you have to put something to rest.
The boots that started the Berger style renaissance - because a 'Eureka!' light bulb went off over The Little Shoe Box, and Ebay's Bob and Angie possessed the common sense and boot savvy to see the design and run with it...well, after viewing them in the bright, unforgiving lights of a photoshoot - it's time.
Since I currently live in this dark little cave apartment, it was easy to overlook the wear and tear. Everything looks good under soft lamps and candle light! This photoshoot in CA from last week though. Oh my.
Scratches, dents, dings, smudges, stretches, broken stitches, worn away leather...these tough girls have paid their dues. They've visited 4 countries, and have been dragged across countless time zones; shoved into suitcases, purses, and plastic bags, and tried on by dozens of fetish models, dominas, and kinky women. Slept in, thrown under beds, and got up to things that are probably illegal in most countries (and States). They were often the first pair of custom fetish boots many women (and men!) held in their hands, and inspired them to order custom boots for themselves - and to appreciate quality leather.
I may (righteously) rag on The Little Shoe Box from time to time - and these boots certainly have a few careless flaws because their work - but Gino picked an exquisite hide for these boots. The leather is soft as silk. They required no 'breaking in' period like most boots. The measurements - truly crotch high with a 6" heel - were correct.
Just to provide a bit of history, the design was inspired by a vintage pair of Berger boots.
Do you know what's funny? That picture was originally printed in D.J.'s 'Boot Lovers Digest' magazine in the early 1990's - before D.J. and I ever met. That's how I discovered the design - I was buying the BLD magazines. Who could have predicted?
(Even looking at that picture again...Christ! Berger knocked it out of the park with that pair! Perfect. Just flawless. Oh, and D.J. will be happy to tell you that he currently owns them - and no, they don't fit me. It's...a sore spot. I don't want to talk about it. *sulking*)
It's time to retire my favorite girls. I can't bitch and moan and be an insufferable boot snob when I'm stomping about in beat-up boots of my own. D.J. suggested that I take them to an upscale repair shop - and he's right to recommend such a thing.
But you know? I kind of like them beat up. It's my scar fetish. Boots are like flesh that way (to me). Every mark and every flaw are like scars and tattoos and they tell a story - and I'm the only one who knows the story. A few characters may recognize their part, of course - but they just popped up in a chapter.
I don't know how the story will end for these boots, but their life - from now on - will be private.
Bootlovers #59 will be the last time you see these boots in a gallery.