So this is not only a fashion blog on fun rubber boots, but it is a eulogy for the same.
I loved my ladybug boots. I bought them to cover a story in Vermont during peak mud season. When my contact there warned me to bring mud boots, I rushed to my local Tiptop store looking for the cheapest ones they had. When I spied these, I smiled.
“Do you have those in adult sizes?” I asked the shoe guy.
“Those are adult sizes!” he told me, annoyed.
“Ah,” I answered, surveying the other pair in green frog. “Have you been selling a lot of these?”
The Tiptop man shrugged. He was clearly in a very bad mood, so I helped myself, paid for my boots, and left.
I loved my ladybug boots even though they didn’t really fit. I bought inserts for arch support, which made them too snug for thick socks, but that didn’t matter. Rubber is surprisingly warm, and I felt happy every time I put them on, and that happiness spread throughout my body.
I loved my ladybug boots even though they had a short life. Not even a year. Because of them, I splashed through puddles like a four-year-old. I stomped through snowdrifts. I purposely slogged through muddy bogs, knowing my feet would be protected.
I’ll bet Michelle Obama would have liked to have worn my ladybug boots instead of high heels the day of the inauguration. I know they would have messed up her ensemble, but they would have been a whole lot easier to walk in, and something tells me she would have enjoyed the idea.
I like to think Michelle Obama and my ladybug boots and I have a lot in common — even though I’m not black or nearly six feet tall or fashionable or the first lady, and my boots are now dead. What we have in common is fun. True fun. Our fun quotient is the same. Not to mention that my boots match my dog in her red and black coat with our red leash, and everybody knows the first lady likes dogs.
So, requiescat, dear ladybug boots.
And long live Michelle Obama, the funnest, most fashionable first lady in many a moon!