All hail the mighty Wellington Boot

I may have owned a pair of wellies when I was a child, I don’t remember. As an adult I didn’t own any until a few years ago when I bought some because I had decided that I was going to go to a festival.

I bought the festival tickets with a friend and everything. Ludicrous idea really considering that I don’t like: mud, camping, beer, chemical toilets, getting dirty, rain, spiders, being in a tent, not being able to wash my hair, being cold, puddles or sleeping in a sleeping bag. I don’t know what came over me, it certainly wasn’t anything to do with having a crush on someone who may also have been attending the festival. No, that would have been utterly ridiculous. Particularly because I’m not sure that I can pull off any form of ‘camper chic’ in fact without access to a hot shower, a hairdryer and some of Boots finest cosmetics I’d be lucky to manage ‘tatty tramp*’

*vagrant, not slut.

Anyway, back to the wellies. My shoe rules are usually as follows:

Are they pretty / sparkly / funky / shiny / brightly coloured / sequined?
Have they got bows / ribbons / zips / any other decoration generally deemed unsuitable to be attached to a pair of shoes?
Do they make me a minimum of three inches taller?
Will they bite my toes or rub several layers of skin from my heels after approximately 49 seconds of wearing?
Can I walk no more than about 25 steps whilst wearing them?
Do they match my outfit?

If so, I buy / wear the shoes.

If they fall into any of the following categories:
Functional, clumpy, sensible, plain, sturdy, menswear, practical, dull, lesbian, chunky.

I do not.

I spend quite a lot of my day in self-inflicted discomfort because of my completely impractical shoe obsession but even I recognise that when its snowy and icy and I’m walking to work, I can’t teeter about in my glossy 4 inch stilettos because a) I’d fall over and b) I’d fall over again.

So, when the snow came last week, I dusted off my Wellington boots with a sigh, thinking how awful it was that I had to wear such things. I shoved them on my feet, stroppy expression on my face and headed outside.

Suddenly, after a few short steps in the snow, I was struck by a strange sensation. My feet were dry and they were staying firmly on the ground. No sliding about, no wobbling around.

As more days passed I made another wonderful discovery, wellies + thick winter socks over my work tights = cosy feet.

Be still my beating heart.

I’m so sorry that I doubted you, gorgeous, practical, sturdy boots…

…Although, is there any chance you’d like to be adorned with “bows / ribbons / zips / any other decoration generally deemed unsuitable to be attached to a pair of shoes?”