If I wore those, I’d be flat on my behind faster than you could say Whoopsie Daisy!
I am such a klutz, sometimes, moreso when it involves schlepping huge stacks of syllabi or marked papers along with a folder of lecture notes and a steaming cup of Tim’s. I have been known to nearly wipe myself out walking down a totally dry hallway. Winter multiplies the hazards with the halls awash in a salty, sandy slush. I’m lucky to keep my footing wearing the practical square-toed, low-heeled shoes I prefer.
And, yet, there’s something about those boots that are just so appealing. Maybe because I can remember my grad school days when I used to stride across Toronto in a killer pair of suede high heeled boots? Before suitability for dashing after children and slogging through snowdrifts became my standard against which I measured winter footwear? Or maybe it’s nostalgia for something that almost really never was anyway, for I believe that I wore those suede boots about a dozen times before they were chucked out.