I came of age in the 90s, so my love of Dr. Martens boots (Docs) is unsurprising. But growing up, it wasn’t an option for me because a) they weren’t easy to come by in the wilds of Northern Michigan before the internet and b) I couldn’t justify spending my earnings from summers clerking in the candy store (now, after I worked two years in a shoe store, I upped my idea of what I would spend on shoes). And there was no way I’d expect my mother to shell out that kind of money on shoes I didn’t need for a specific purpose.
So I spent middle and high school in envy of my one friend who had Docs, in no small part because she had tiny feet and could get kids’ sizes. I hadn’t been able to wear kids’ sizes since maybe the third grade. Yay, big feet! Although, US women’s 10s aren’t that huge or uncommon these days, it’s always been a pain getting size 10s because stores don’t stock up on them or the shoes look pretty godawful when you get that big.
Flash forward to adulthood, to Philadelphia, to realizing that I finally had a job where I could buy a pair of Docs for myself if I wanted to. In the grand scheme of things a pair of Docs have nothing on a new computer or shiny new tech.
One pair became two became…a half-dozen. Which is pretty restrained when you think about it. The pair I’ve had my eyes on for ages finally came back in stock at Zappos, so I decided it was time to get pair number seven. Unfortunately, the bottom part of the boot where the eyelet pieces met the rest of the shoe had this stupid gap, so back they went. It makes me pretty darn glad I didn’t cave and get them on Amazon for the slightly cheaper price. However, I’ve found the replacement pair, which are a pretty close tie with my purple skull pair for most me Docs ever.
I’ve still got my eyes out for a pair of newsprint ones like my friend from school had. The pair that started it all, many, many moons ago.