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Down Below
Column
Down Below
Mr. Bootblack is a philosopher with distinct views of his own. He earns a living cleaning shoes. Once every two weeks he writes an article about footwear for GDS – and about the wearers.
“Bootblack,” says Barry, “I’m starting to believe all that stuff about gaiters!” He points down to the hem of his trouser legs wet from the wintery weather we get at this time of year. “I’m going to have to have all my trousers taken up.” He laughs. Just like everyone else round here he had just gone back to buying longer trousers again. And now this.
Folds have made a comeback. Suit trousers worn by the Wall Street Boys had been getting shorter and shorter over the past few years until they almost looked too small – but now they drape over the instep creating a fold. Which is the way I like it. I always wear my trousers like that. And, yes, this is just further proof that even stopped clocks do still tell the right time a least twice a day. Fashion has come full circle back to me. Yet this does also mean something else: namely that your trouser hems trail behind you in the mud. And boots are no help here as men can only tuck their trousers into them if they are off horse-riding or going to war. However, my life-long fight for the return of the gaiter is only about as successful as Rick Perry’s presidential election campaign – the man with the “oops”. No-one listens to me. Which is sensible, as I am a man. And when I look at New York City in winter I realise that, unlike us men, women are more in tune with reality. They think practically because they don’t want to be practical. This I will explain.
Lovely shoes are of course not about shoes. They are about long legs and well-shaped butts because of the muscle tension they create. Obviously, there are nice flat shoes around but women shopping for high heels are not just looking for shoes. Just watch them when they look in the mirror when trying on shoes in a store. They look at their trousers at least as much as the shoes. And damn right too! And because they know that in this city and in this weather wearing shoes like that means they are “a-goner” anyway, they just go ahead and buy a pair of biker boots at the same time – which they can tuck their trouser legs into and then take their pumps into work in a bag. I have to admit this is even better than gaiters. This is really smart.
“The funny thing is,” says Barry, “my mom always used to dress me in wellington boots on days like this. Back then my trousers were clean and my face was dirty - whereas nowadays I wear a tie but my trousers are wet.” I have to laugh. This is the typical upshot of a compromise: when you prepare yourself for all eventualities – for both sleet on the street and a day at your desk in an air-conditioned office - in the end you are not suitably dressed for either – because you want to do everything right. At exactly this moment a leggy girl in stilettoes teeters by, tracing a slalom course around the deepest puddles. “Stupid,” says Barry looking back after her circumspectly, “stupid, but wildly resolute. And I really envy her for it.”
