|Sad thing is, even with the cobwebs, they're much cleaner than my current boots.|
The saleswoman told me, "these are the most uncomfortable boots you will ever spend this much money on." My bruised, chafed, and blistered ankles confirmed this the first several times I rode in them. And as a fairly inexperienced rider, my legs swung all over the place with the slippery new leather. But I loved my field boots. I felt so traditional each time I slipped them on with my boot pulls, so proper when I paired them with my mustard-colored breeches. Perhaps grabbing the front seat with one hand and the back seat with the other, hovering in midair due to the force my mom needed to yank my boots off was less traditional and proper, but it took us a while to figure out that boot jacks existed.
|via Belltent Camping Boot Jacks|
So why would I abandon such trusty companions--and ones that didn't mind how much my legs sweat in the summer, at that?
|This is why.|
Of course, now even Olympians wear zippers and it's hard to even find pull-ons. But I still have a prejudice against zippers that's hard to shake, so now that zipper boots dominate the market, my options were limited. I was excited to find some $300 Ariats that were half price with the sale. I was excited to have such quality boots.
Except...even after they dropped, they don't fit right. The Spanish tops on the outside are nice, but the elastic gusset on the inside means that they stretch to fit right under my knee, rather than dropping to slightly below that. They pinch me behind my knee, and the upper strangles, rather than hugs, the inside of my calf when I put them on. They're just plain uncomfortable and nowhere near as beloved as my first pair.
|Mud? Poop? Who knows!|
Moral of the story: If you are a pair of size 9 regular Ariat field boots belonging to me, you'll get what's coming to you.