City boots vs. country boots
10/28/2008

City boots vs. country boots

These are my favorite boots at home in Santa Barbara.  I like the way they look, plus they’re comfortable for walking and their smooth soles are great for dancing. 

They’re not the kind of cowboy boots bonafide cowgirls wear around horses though.

I was wearing these boots as I poured myself coffee at a café en route to Washington when a booming voice behind me said, “Is there a horse show in town?”

Turning, I ascertained that a big older gentleman in a polo shirt and khakis was, indeed, talking to me, so I said, “Oh, I don’t know.  I’m not actually a cowgirl.  I’m a poser; a wannabe.”

By now everyone in the room was waiting to hear how the big man would answer. 

He looked at his coffee cup awhile before saying, a bit sadly. “Yeah, I know what you mean.  I wear golf clothes all the time…and I can’t golf.”  

These are my favorite cowboy boots in Washington.  They’re Justin Double Comfort cushion sole Lace-Rs—the kind you can wear mucking out stalls, setting fence posts, moving hand lines, and doing other actual work around a farm.  They’re also the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn, so if the rest of me is not in a dress or a bathing suit, they’re what I have on my feet.

And that’s another thing I love about rural Washington: I can wear these boots everywhere I go; work dress is considered appropriate for almost any occasion.  You can even go to town dirty.  Why not?  You’ve been working. 

In fact, cleanliness is perhaps just a tiny bit suspect.  Why are you so clean all the time?  Don’t you have anything to do?

Back in Santa Barbara, there are nail salons on almost every block.  Many women have standing once-a-week appointments for a manicure.  In Twisp, Washington, the first time I saw a woman with painted nails I actually stared.  I’d forgotten about them.  She was a young woman, probably home from college for the summer.  Or maybe she was going to a wedding later.  Painted nails are an early casualty of life on a farm.

Other priorities are different, as well.  I was standing with our dog Tux, a handsome Australian shepherd, outside Cascade Pipe and Feed Store while my husband was buying supplies.  When Micheal and the salesman—wearing a John Deere cap, plaid shirt, and jeans—came outside to load the truck, the salesman looked Tux and me over and said, “That’s a good-looking dog you’ve got there.” 

Ouch.

Maybe I should have painted my nails and worn my city boots…