The New Leather

January 1, many people vow to improve themselves in the coming year. These resolutions are virtually never kept, but are extremely important to the financial well being of health clubs. Having joined a health club on January 1, 2001 in order to strengthen my abdominals, I attended one Pilates class, pulled a trapezius muscle while planking and never returned. That class cost me $860, not counting the co-pays on my subsequent physical therapy. Accordingly, I no longer make new years resolutions.
However, January 1 marks a new beginning. These first weeks of January, I decided to devote myself to considering the kind of person I am. I hate to think of myself as superficial, materialistic and acquisitive. I prefer to believe I am deep , contemplative and could be happy living in a yurt. I performed my self analysis exclusively in Lord and Taylor,Filene's Basement and Fabulous Footwear, three venues most conducive to introspection.
In the Lord and Taylor shoe department, I asked the salesman, Trevor, for a pair of Steve Madden black boots in size 6. He input my request into his handheld computer and disappeared. While he was gone, I congratulated myself on my choice. It demonstrated a clear victory of the contemplative over the materialistic. Steve Madden-contemplative. Donna Karan-materialistic. After ten minutes he returned with light brown boots in size 8. "Trevor," I said placidly, raising my voice only slightly, " These are not black boots in size 6." Trevor agreed reluctantly, but asked if I might not like to try them on anyway. "They run small." I declined and he retreated to the stock room returning some time later with black boots in size 9. I screamed profuse thanks for his trouble,wished him a nice day and departed the store, basking in my self denial. If I had harbored any doubts of my unacquisitive nature, they had been laid to rest.
While I could lead a rich life without the Steve Madden black knee-high boots, even Karl Marx would concede that brown leather ankle boots are de rigeur. Fabulous Footwear's ear-splitting techno music would be conducive to reflection and as I had previously purchased my black leather Sporto ankle boots there eight years before, it was a perfect destination.
I went up and down the aisles. There were plastic high boots, plastic ankle boots, fake suede high boots, fake suede low boots. Although there was no exculpatory sign, it was apparent that no animals had died in the making of these boots. I asked a salesperson if they carried leather Sporto ankle boots. "Leather?" she said as if I had asked if the Pope was Catholic. "We don't carry leather. Plastic is the new leather."
Although disappointed that my entire shoe wardrobe was at worst "passe" and at best "retro," I was secretly pleased that I had left two stores without a purchase. I was practically Amish.
Today, in my continued quest for self awareness and boots, I went to Filene's Basement. I found black knee high Anne Klein boots in size 6 on sale for forty percent off. I brought them to the check out line, stopping briefly to paw through two seventy-five percent off racks on the way. While standing on the line, my head aching from my laborious self examination, I brought my ruminations to a self satisfied close. I concluded I am not a vapid, greedy materialist. I am a profound intellectual with boots appropriate for any yurt.