Oh no, people, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. Those are, indeed, silver metallic cowboy boots. Now, let me just confess to you that I have a pair of cowboy boots that I love dearly, but I will be the first to admit that, for the most part, the cowboy boot's time has come and gone. I have accepted that I can only wear them, with very few exceptions, to the country bar, and even then, usually well hidden under a pair of bootcut jeans. I understand that in some parts of the country, cowboy boots are still neccessary, and even considered...dare I say it...acceptable for public consumption. HOWEVER! There is absolutely NO reason for metallic cowboy boots. NONE. Who are you, the Rhinestone Cowboy? No, you most certainly are not, and for Prada's sake, stop tucking your jeans that don't fit you correctly into your metallic cowboy boots, thereby accentuating the fact that every single item of clothing you have on your lower body is the most hideous thing ever. (No, hipsters, it is STILL NOT IRONIC).
Okay, okay, I know these are very similar to "boots with the fur," but really, they are a class all their own. Not even a cute heel or pointed toe to distract you from the fake sheepskin in 90 degree weather (usually worn with a cut off denim mini skirt that barely covers your muffin shop...and if you are over 24 and wearing one of these skirts, please let me know your location so I can fly there and slap you). No, these are just...well...fUgg (see that? See what I did there?).
(Someone had time to put on their Uggs, but obviously forgot their pants.)
Really, these things are all over. I hear you can get them in like, 538295894285928092358924 colors. They have stripes. They have little poofballs. They have tall ones. They have short ones. They have corderoy, and yes, they even make rainbow. crochet. booties. Hell, Uggs have become so popular, they have knock offs, and now have to designate them as "Original Uggs." Could someone please take the "Original Ugg" and burn it, so that perhaps they will stop reproducing? I know that they're dying down, but way too many people have not got the memo. This is not Nepal. You are not a sherpa. There is no need for sheepskin on your feet just because the air conditioning at the mall is a bit too chilly.
Gladiator. Sandals. No, shut up, it's for real. I saw this poor girl wearing them just the other day, and I kind of wanted to trip her and hope that the structural strap on her sandals broke and they were just ruined for LIFE. I know they're not reeeeaaaaallllyyyyy boots (but who's to say what is a boot?), but they go up to your knees, and that is boot enough for me. Look, let's not kid ourselves here. You are not, will not, and have not been Xena. You are not a warrior princess. You will never sleep with a warrior princess. And hi, all of the people who have had their boobs grabbed by Lucy Lawless, raise their hand. Oh, surprise, I'm the only one raising my hand.
(Standing in for Xena is...your mom. Or your dad, I can't tell.)
We're all friends here, right? So I can tell you that maybe I know a few girls who have done their time on Santa Monica Blvd. It's hard to advertise, unless you want to pay all that money to take an add out in the back of the LA Weekly. You know, you wear a big sign that says, "Yes, I will accept money for sexual favors," and it sort of gets you sent to the slammer. Or, um, so I hear. What, then, do working girls do to advertise? Why, they wear these:I'll admit it, I love the print. But I am not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, and neither are you. Never ever wear boots that breech the gap between the fullest part of your calf and your knee, especially if they're vinyl. Really. Unless you're a teenaged goth queen or you're working it over at the Bunny Ranch with Heidi Fleiss, just say no. In fact, if you have the urge to purchase just about anything wearable in vinyl, you should probably back away slowly and hide the Amex.
Finally, on one last, albeit totally non-boot related note, a reader pointed one thing out to me from my last post. In one of the mullet photos, there was an innocent bystander wearing a Finding Nemo tshirt. The person in question was pretty obviously over the age of, oh, I don't know, 7, which is the acceptable age for wearing a Finding Nemo tshirt. Well, unless you work at Disneyland, then you should probably think about finding a job that doesn't require you to look like your mental capacity has yet to catch up with your shoe size. Moving on, ladies. Listen. Cartoon characters are never acceptable. Even I realize that my tastefully embossed Hello Kitty suitcase is totally tacky, but it has sentimental value, and by the way, who the hell cares what I look like in LAX at 5am? However, anywhere in the universe outside of LAX at 5am, you should not be wearing Mickey Mouse or Sponge Bob or Winnie the Poo, or G-d forgive, Spiderman outdoors. Or even indoors (sleep time is acceptable. Laundry time is only acceptable if no one else has to pretend to be folding their laundry while trying to mentally coax that bottle of bleach to ruin your Power Puff Girls baby tee)! Even if you only paid $5 for it at the thrift store. Guess why it's at the thrift store? Because someone else realized they were over the age of 10!
**(Just a quick note, according to Wikipedia, Flo-Rida was actually born in Florida. So, you can feel like an ass for laughing at that, which I know you did, because I apparently know more than you do about bad hip hop. Sucka.)