My mission with these posts is to espouse all that is fashion at 9,000 feet…to take the tips and tricks from the NY and LA fashion mags and distill them into what works for those of us who spend most of the year tromping around in snow.
In only my second post, I’m breaking from that. Because there’s a piece of footwear that I’ve never seen any BMW (bitchin’ mountain woman) wear – but I’m not sure why: Wellies. Rain boots. Rubber boots. Call them what you will – I don’t understand why we’re all not sporting them this time of year. They take up double spreads in the fashion pages of national magazines every spring, and are donned by women in cities everywhere to keep their Jimmy Choos safe from weather.
We helped my parents shuttle appliances between their detached garage and house yesterday, and as my Ugg boots squished two inches deep in thick, spring mud, I muttered “I hate mud season.” (I know, I know…we’re not supposed to call it that lest scare off the tourists – but come on, people! When a lot of snow melts saturating land that is 90 percent pine needles and dirt – you get MUD!)
As I stood haplessly scraping my feet in the snow trying to get the worst of the ick off my two-year-old-but-I-still-the-most-expensive-boots-other-than-ski-boots-I-own, I thought about the rain boots I’d purchased from Target back in the fall.
They were black and white hounds tooth, and called my name. I picked them up, put them down, picked them up, put them down and then dawdled in the aisles pondering whether they were a senseless purchase. I thought about all the times I tromped through slush, melting snow, and water pooled into the size of a small lake in parking lots and made the purchase.
After sitting in the box for three weeks, I returned them. I would look silly. Snow boots up here, that’s what we wear – snow boots!
But now I’m on a mission. I’m going to purchase a pair. They’re going to be bold, colorful, and water proof. I will wear them with skirts and tights, and tuck skinny jeans into them. I will bravely cross the street and walk through parking lots with nary a thought to the puddles of slush. I will wear them proudly at BBQ fest on the Friday night notorious for rain. Mud will rinse off them with a mere swish of a hose.
Who’s with me, ladies!Christine Mahorney is a altitude suppresed fashionista living in the ice and snow of the high Colorado Rocky Mountains. She and her husband run a fledgling letterpress studio, Lodgepole Press, and her husband is the wood carver / artist who does many of the the fun, custom carvings you see about the towns. They have two children, ages 11 and 18 months. When not at her son’s hockey games, skiing, working, or cleaning the house, Christine is a faithful reader of Elle and Harper’s Bazaar magazines. You can reach her at Christine@LodgepolePress.com.