M. Suzanne Terry

My style ebbs and flows. I go through phases where everything is loose and flowing (usually a winter phase). I go through phases where I want to dress like Cam on Bones (in fact, I found a fantastic dress a couple of weeks ago, so I feel that phase coming on again soon). Once, a friend said to me, “You dress like a cartoon character,” so apparently, there’s that phase, too.

But the one constant in my closet – the item that goes with every phase – black knee-high boots.

I am fond of the knee-high boot. I have had white ones (these will probably be the shoes I wear in my wedding), red ones, brown ones, and even green vinyl ones (I needed them for a Poison Ivy costume.  NEEDED.). But for the last twenty years, I have always had at least one pair of black boots.

They are practical. They go with everything. They give an edge to lace and velvet. They dress up a casual outfit while still providing some arch support. They make a dressy ensemble a little funkier.

And let’s just say it – these boots make me look like a badass.

I didn’t fully understand the power of the boot until I was old enough to go clubbing. I tried at first to go the sexy, strappy sandal route.  They looked great….at the beginning of the night. By the end of the night, my feet were angry. Now, I love me a strappy sandal, but unless they are specifically built for dancing (e.g., tango shoes, which is another post altogether), they are best suited for sitting still and looking pretty. As I’ve never had much interest in being an ornament, I needed a new footwear choice.

Enter the knee-high boot.

It is difficult to be a wallflower when you’re standing in fourteen inches of leather. It kinda makes me stand out. And I like it.

These boots are empowering.  Unlike the majority of shoes made for women, they’re functional.  I can dance in them easily without my feet getting tired. If necessary, I could run in them. And they’re sturdy enough that they could do some damage if I were in a situation where I needed to take out the knee of an attacker. I hope I never have to do so, but if such a situation presents itself, my boots and I are ready.

I’m writing 31 Days of Personal Beauty, even if it takes me until October to finish it.