i found the perfect black boot through a stranger at a cafe
and three ways to style
I was minding my own business sipping a latte at Canyon Coffee when a girl walked in wearing the perfect pair of black boots.
Perfection is subjective. But I had been looking high and low for a pair just like the ones she had on: black leather, not a stiff equestrian boot but not those slouchy suede Y2K ones. Sort of like a galosh, but one that a Victorian groundskeeper would wear—not a rubbery rainboot. No metal hardware, fringe, or embellishments. Doesn’t read overtly “country” but could be worn on a farm. Oh, and mid calf height. I already have knee boots, and I generally pass on ankle boots that harken the days of my feverish obsession over the Acne Jensens or Pistols (iykyk).
A perfect boot is the amalgamation of all these things: a little bit wellington, Kate Moss at Glastonbury if you will, a little bit biker chick with greasy hair and dusty skin, and just a little bit horsey.
I went over to ask her where her boots were from.