Because, see, i was at the Walker and ran (somebody stop me) into just this onslaught of epic boots, so many boots -- it's almost like i went to the Walker to see boots instead of
flabby sacks art. What kind of sick person would do that? Anyway...
These I dig for the brogue-ishness up front -- kinda dandy. They used to have a crest on the toe but it wore off.
These are so agreeably shiny and handmade and expensive. They're Grandson (long line of shiny, expensive, handmade boots), which I came home and google-fied my stalking best and dang if i didn't come up empty. Normally, I would question my memory or blame it on the lighting, but the word Grandson is stamped into the red rubber sole that you see the side of there. Also i asked the wearer to spell it for me
to see if he was telling the truth. He knows how to spell grandson. He got them in NYC. So ok, shiny, expensive, handmade and stealth.
This was sort of an unauthorized photo because she and her boy friend were actually very engrossed in
a hormonal hailstorm the art and i felt like a tool busting in on their pursuit of knowledge. But those red zippers! Like if you were snow blind or drunk, you could definitely figure out how to get your boots off. So you wouldn't wake up several days later thinking your feet were really hot. Because that would be bad.