There’s an eternal appeal to riding boots, don’t you think? Immediate visions of moors, fog, and hair swirling in the wind? Your hair, a romantic stranger’s, long-maned horse, no matter. So what if the closest grassy knoll is a berm by some suburban train tracks, or, what’s an imagination for?
So when Naturalizer contacted me about this little project, I was interested. “Style our Jersey boots,” they said. “And then we’ll post the pictures on our Facebook page and you can represent Bloggers Over 50.” At least that’s approximately what they said. Here is the official announcement. Note that the additional pairs of shoes I would win – if my outfit gets the most votes – would be then given away here. To you guys.
“Voting will be open until Wednesday, October 30th at which point the blogger with the most votes will be selected as the winner of 2 additional pairs of shoes from Naturalizer’s fall line. During the contest, we’ll also select 5 random Facebook voters to win a pair of Naturalizers of their own!”
All right then!
In an era of color mixing and patterns, which although I do minimally I see everywhere, riding boots seemed to demand A Return To Black. But what clothing silhouette would work with both the boots and my shape, at 57? I haven’t owned tall boots since the 1980s – they were slouchy, skirts were full, and I was not yet 30. So we start with a little analysis.
The Jerseys are casual boots, somewhere between rubber wellies and Italian leather. They probably aren’t fully waterproof but they’re certainly not delicate. They zip up, and stretch at the top of the calf. The rubber sole makes them comfortable as heck. In other words, perfect for tromping across fields or wet fall city crosswalks.
As such, they call for pants, more specifically skinny jeans tucked right into their shaft. But I don’t wear skinny jeans.
However, I do have an Anthropologie skater dress, which you may remember from it’s disappointing outing with moto boots. Aha! And, from the depths of the Drawers That Remember Everything, I dredged up a pair of Alice and Olive leggings, bought years back in a They Will Be Perfect For New Year’s moment. They weren’t perfect, by the way, but no matter.
I tried on hosts of jackets for this outfit. My first thought was to finally find a use for the Kiton cashmere. Didn’t look great. Back into The Closet That Remembers it went. Then maybe the ol’ Chanel? My secret non-honorable agenda there was thinking that perhaps the display of the iconic tweed would win us the Naturalizer contest. But the shape was wrong, wrong, wrong.
So, on to the Isabel Marant Étoile heathered black tweed, add a family diamond and pearl bar pin (because a Return To Black does well with white or clear jewelry), Vicente Agor Ice Shelf earrings (again, clear), and an ancient black Coach hobo, or bucket bag, or whatever we’re calling it these days, that had been hiding in the closet too. Clutching my red reading glasses in one hand, as one does.
Then I stepped back, and saw that at 50, absent architectural white hair and vivid red lipstick, an all black outfit works better with a little color at the face. I pulled out the Etro scarf my brother gave me 5-10 years ago, chock full of colors that don’t let me down. Thank you foggy sea blue, and my friend lavender, your efforts are duly noted.
Thank you as ever for all your support.
(BTW, Etro scarves are beautiful, and live forever, as far as I can tell.)