I do installs in heels (albeit sturdy platforms), I cut down Christmas trees (well technically Bryan does the cutting) in sandals, I hike in wedge flip flops. Despite the seeming lack of practicality, for me, it's really a comfort thing (hang with me here). I'm not a fan of a closed toe -- too confining; and flats just feel, well, wrong. So I ignore the cajoling and occasional looks of abject horror and don the 3-inch platforms to hang the gallery wall. It's just my thing.
Except when there's acres of mud involved. Mud is an entirely different enterprise. And friends, this year's pilgrimage to the Round Top antiques fair with Sam and Sarah was mud-tastic (mud fest 2015, mod-o-rama). It was all Woodstock meets gilt-encrusted french mirrors and weathered mid-century leather sofas. Flip flops (as Sarah so emphatically pointed out in our frantic, pre-trip shoe-planning text marathon) were not going to cut it.
Ok, now here's the embarrassing confession. I own no close-toe practical shoes. None, zip, nada. I have those damn flip flops and a pair of Teva sandals (with a little wedge, natch), but nothing appropriate for tromping through deep, muddy puddles. Enter the 23rd hour, totally desperate, looking for something out of season, totally rushed shopping trip. (Never a good scene.)
I ended up purchasing that pair of Hunter boots in the first photo above literally minutes before we left town. I was hesitant at best -- they were pricey and flat (sadly the flat part bothered me more than the pricey part), but friends once I slipped on those bad boys and started navigating the flood waters of rural Texas my world was rocked.
Who knew that practical footwear could be so transformative. I was like an antiquing superhero, it was empowering, exhilarating even. I could literally walk through oozing mud holes to get to pretty light fixtures and feel like a massive badass in the process (and let's just say light fixture shopping rarely brings out the badass in a person).
It's official; I am a convert. At least for the Hunters... Tennis shoes, well, that's a whole other story.