But no one stomps in puddles any more…

In Uncategorized on October 12, 2010 at 11:12 pm

I always like it when I wake up and it’s raining.  The sound itself.  The tide running down on the street.  The windows being splashed.  It’s not a bad sound to wake up to.

But in all honesty, what I look forward to when I hear Poseidon’s tears cluttering my window frame isn’t the agonizing umbrella waltz I’ll be playing with everyone on the sidewalk, nor is it that I will inevitably plunge myself into one of those deceptively deep puddles that eat socks like mine for breakfast.  It isn’t any of that.

It’s the rain boots.  The parade of rain boots all the way down every block of every neighborhood in every borough in this city.

It’s a small fashion show in rugged rubber.  God that sounded like metaphor for market research into condoms.  Lets forget both of those images, shall we?

Every woman in New York has a pair of these.  Straight up Rubber from top to bottom, generally coming to just below the knee, and almost always in friggin pastels. I get it.  They have their nice shoes – the ones that would shriek in horror the moment they saw a single rain drop – those are in their purse waiting from dryer pastures.  The rubber monstrosities are a conveyance, to a land where one’s standard sense of style may recommence unabated.

The pragmatics, I understand.  But, what makes the appearance of the rain boot such a wonderful reveal, almost on the level of bloody Brigadoon, is that each woman owns exactly ONE pair of these boots.  Just one.  And it goes with nothing.  They either are a gleaming blue green that only fits in as the wall color in a third grade home room.  Or else they’re covered in coagulated cute in the form of little duckies, polka dots, kitties, sushi, or extra extra tiny Kristin Chenowiths.

This leads to the visual of a woman, going to her impressive office job, decked out in a fashionable black pencil skirt, well matched chocolate brown top, perfectly arranged necklace and earrings with just a touch of topaz in each for color , and then bright pink Hello Kitty booties.


Guys don’t do the rain bootie thing.  We have shoes that are supposed to withstand rain.  Or else we’re supposed to be manly lumberjack types when we step two feet deep into the bog of eternal stench on the corner of 43rd and 6th.  I mean, my shoes certainly don’t need protection.  (Most don’t even have a heel left.  You know, other than the duct tape I put on.)  But still, I would be curious to see if guys ever did take that on.

Some random tough on the street.  Designer jeans.  Leather jacket.  Massive, and massively expensive wrist watch.

And then, Spiderman booties.

It would be awesome.

That is all.

P.S.  You’re wondering what I’d have on mine?  Like there’s a question.  Fraggle Rock!  Hollah!


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