Every year, sick of disposable summer fashion and all the arduous grooming procedures it necessitates, August rolls in, the A/W runways have rolled out and the quest of meticulously devising my winter wardrobe becomes my all-consuming devotion. Without fail, this results in at least one pair of boots; perennially purchased amidst the Autumnal excitement of the arrival of the new season stock, being forsaken by mid-September, never to grace my fickle feet for the remainder of that or any later season. So this year I am resolute. I am abstaining from the all-important winter boot purchase until late September, making do with my beaten up lace-ups, which now, having been dearly loved and well-worn since last October, resemble the footwear of a Mary Poppins-era chimney sweep and have since May, ceased to stop being functional footwear and instead are now completely permeable and void of their proper soles. Only a month or so go, and in the meantime I get to be a penniless shoe-perv, frugal footwear voyeur etc
Manifestations of my new vocation to come.