goodbye my love...

It's with a heavy heart that I finally bid farewell to the love of my life, my new york boots.

These boots were bought on my first trip to New York - I took a few days off work a few weeks before Christmas to visit my friend K. who was living down there, working about three different jobs but living in the glamourous Soho district.

Your first time in New York is better than all the firsts in your life, and that's including sex. The sights and sounds that surround you, walking down busy streets, passing those iconic buildings, stopping in for a Magnolia cupcake then browsing the nearby used biography bookstore - I loved it.

I found these boots at a flea market in Hell's Kitchen. K. had already secured a pair of her own a few weeks earlier, and I was determined to find a pair for myself.

The first few stalls didn't have much in stock, most boots there were old cowboy boots, not was I had in mind. Then the next stall had a pair of vintage Cole Haans! But of course, they were about 2 sizes too small and no amount of forcing my feet in, gritting my teeth and saying 'they'll stretch' would make them fit my feet.

And then I spotted the boots. Dark caramel brown with a gold buckle on the side, the quintessential riding boots, in mint condition and fit my feet like a glove. Oh, how I loved you at first sight.

The boots and I have enjoyed a long and loving relationship looked upon many with envy. I've enjoyed the admiring stares we've gotten while out together on the town, and when someone inquired after them, I'd breezily say, 'oh these? I got them at a flea market in New York.'

Sadly, after 3 years of wear and tear, not to mention walking on the salt-encrusted streets of Toronto, the boots have finally met their end. A hole started to appear at the end of last winter, and not even my trusted shoe repairman could fix it. Today, while walking down Regents Street in the rain, my foot started to feel a bit wet, and when i looked down, a large hole on the side of my right boot was staring up at me.

So after a long reign, the new york boots are destined for the bin.

I think part of the reason i've held onto them so long and loved them so much is that they always remind me of those few short days I had in New York. That was a time just before my life started to get very complicated, and back then, I had no idea the kind of messy emotional roller coaster I'd be throwing myself into. When I first got those boots, my life was simpler and I hadn't made so many mistakes. Now that I'm throwing them out, I find myself shaking my head and wishing I could go back and redo so much.

Regret is such a bitch.