Boot Gal

Once a week our local paper includes a feature called "Style File." The reporter stops a well-dressed woman, takes a photo, and interviews her about her clothing, with questions such as "Are you a shoe or handbag gal?" Shoe Gal replies with numbers, gobmacking numbers: "Oh, for me, it's shoes, definitely shoes. I have 253 pairs. . . no, make that 255," as she looks down at her shopping bags and gives a little tinkly laugh. Handbag Gal seems more interested in quality than quantity, rattling off the names of her handbags, kind of like my mom proudly reciting the names of her grandchildren. Even more amazing, all these women can identify everything on their body by name. Not, "umm, my sister gave me this sweater for Christmas awhile back," or "I bought these jeans on sale at Dillard's, I think, or wait, no, I guess it was Macy's." Nope, instead it's "Oh, I'm wearing my favorite Gino Leopardo boots with leggings by Mangia, a tunic by Shmoozer and a vest by La De Dah."

I am not on a first-name basis with my clothes. We are just not that intimate. And I'm neither a Shoe Gal nor a Handbag Gal--and I'm afraid it shows.

For two days this week, however, I did have almost $1000 in new boots hanging out in my bedroom. I blame menopause. And my niece.

The menopause explains the sudden urge to acquire fashionable funky boots. At least that's my hypothesis. Actually it's more than a hypothesis; it's my new mantra: blame menopause. Besides, I'm getting old. Soon I'll be in those big clunky geriatric shoes with knee-high stockings puddling around my ankles. I need funky fashionable boots now.

Menopause and imminent old age explain the sudden compulsion to seek out boots, but not how $1000-worth of boots ended up in my bedroom. That was my niece's fault. She introduced me to the wonders of zappos.com. [Legal disclaimer: I am not an employee of Zappo's and I have never accepted any money from Zappo's. Which is not to say I wouldn't should the chance arise, oh amazing Zappo people.] Here's the deal: you place an order and shipping is FREE on both delivery and returns. So, as my niece pointed out, who needs the mall? You just go online, pick out bunches and bunches of shoes (or in my case, boots), wait a day, and then try them on at home. Then you put them all back in the box, print out the return label, tape it on the box, and send the whole shebang back--and you've PAID NOTHING. Unless, of course, you keep a pair. Or two.

Hey, Style File. Menopausal Boot Gal awaits.