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Oscar Wilde once famously said that life often imitates art. And never has that quote applied to me before today.
I’ve opined for what seems like half of my adult life that Birkenstocks should not just be included in every man, woman, and child’s personal style arsenal, they should be considered essential to it. Blog after blog, I’ve pleaded with the masses to adopt Birkenstocks. I’ve been met with hate mail, indifference, and courageous tweets of support from people who read my stuff day in and day out. I love and appreciate the dialogue we’ve created surrounding Birkenstocks.
They are high fashion in sandal form. They can be worn with literally anything and they are comfortable to boot. And now my time has come to stray away from the sandal for a few months.
Up until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. In years past I’ve either worn boots or socks and stocks.
Socks with Birkenstocks originally came about for me because in the fall I found myself wanting to wear my Jesus sandals out to the bar. The only problem? Deep in the throws of autumn in a midwestern metropolis like Chicago, going barefoot is out of the question. It’s just too cold for your feet to be exposed to the elements when the temperature is hovering in the mid-50’s. And when it’s raining or snowing? Well, you can forget about socks and stocks altogether. This is when the boot would come into play. I’d wear a pair out, get a few compliments, and look like every other asshole in the joint. I’m a faceless lemming when I’ve got boots on. And while the compliments I’d receive while wearing said boot (or sometimes even a sneaker) were very nice, I’d always wish that I could be wearing my beloved Birkenstocks.
So here we are. In a staredown with an Indian summer that just won’t go away. Fall is coming whether you want it or not, and this year I won’t have to worry about wearing boots and I won’t have to check the forecast to make sure I’ll be alright wearing socks and stocks.
Enter the oiled leather, Birkenstock “Boston.”
Until a few months ago these bad boys weren’t even on my radar. And then like a beam of light breaking its way through dark clouds of dark blue and gray, the “Boston” appeared in a sponsored ad on my Instagram feed. For fans of all things Birkenstock, I’ve got to say I’m a little ashamed of myself for just finding out about these clogs.
It’s a hybrid of the popular “Arizona” sandal which I’ve come to love more than most things in this cruel world. I can’t think of anything more appropriate to put on your feet in the fall than the Boston.
For a small one-time fee, I can get my Birkenstock fix when the cold starts to encroach upon the midwest without sacrificing comfort or warmth. I can wear a pair of wool socks with the Bostons and still pull off that divorced middle school art teacher aesthetic that I strive for during the autumn months.
No longer will I have to worry about my toes getting wet if it rains outside. The back of my pants will protect the back half of my foot from the elements, while the all leather, oiled clog portion of my Bostons protects the front half.
Have fun with your Timberlands, your hip sneakers, and Hunter boots which, in my opinion, are just a passing fad. I’ll be in a pair Bostons all autumn, soaking in the backlash, the love, and the indifference that always seems to come my way when I decide it’s time to throw on a pair of Birks.
God bless you, Birkenstock. You’re a beacon of light in an otherwise trash-infested sky. .
Images via Birkenstock