She wants dreamboots--not dreamboat

By Charlie Ganong

In case you haven't noticed, a new fashion craze has clomped onto the scene. I'm speaking, of course, about women's boots. Today nearly every gal you see in West Seattle, Westwood Village or Burien is either a.) tightly encased in a pair of calf-hugging boots, b.) on a mission to buy (more) boots, or c.) distraught because her outfit clashes with her boots du jour.

I don't know how this craze got started or where it is headed. I only know that my spouse, BusyBee (last seen fashioning Bee Houses, Birdbaths and a bazillion other homespun creations), as desperately as she pines to clamber aboard the Boot-mobile, has resigned herself to the harsh reality that, due to the vagaries of anatomy, she simply cannot wear boots.

It's not for lack of effort (or footwork.) Lord knows she has dragged me through every shoe store around in search of the "Golden Calf"--that pair of boots that have the perfect look, feel and fit. "Well, how about this pair?" I say, tentatively waving before her, hoping beyond hope, what look like suitable contenders for the princess's magic slippers.

"No, not those!" she says, hurriedly trying on and discarding what look like a perfectly good pair to me. "Those will never work. Don't you know anything?! Let's go!" And off we march to the next store, a mountain of overturned shoe boxes, bewildered clerks and dashed dreams tottering in our frenzied wake.

Still, I, like a would-be prince looking for the foot that fits the glass slipper, keep hoping that somehow, somewhere, she will find her dream boots. It must be a powerful subconscious urge--fanned by the flames of crafty advertising--this desire of millions of modern-day women to sheath themselves in knee-high footwear. Or else it's a bout of nostalgia from the sixties, which started it all, giving birth to the wildly popular Go-Go Boot, its masculine equivalent, the Beatle Boot, and, of course, the official theme song and marching tune of Bootville, These Boots Are Made For Walkin', by Nancy Sinatra.

In any event, I hope that BusyBee continues to graciously tolerate my ineptitude in trying to help her find her dream boots. Someday we'll find a pair with just the right mix of buttons, zippers, shape, color, style, and, most importantly, pizzazz. And when she finally dons those magic boots: music will start to play, light will shine down from above, the waters will part, and she will step briskly and elegantly onto the sidewalk, dazzling and electrifying the streets of Burien--or wherever she chooses to wear her dream boots.

Just be sure not to get in her way--she might be headed for a shoe store near you.

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