I went into the Johnston & Murphy store at Hopkins International Airport two weeks ago and told the clerk it was time to let the boots I wore go. I showed her what I was looking for. She found the right pair.
I then asked her to throw away the boots, which saddened me. After all, these boots had logged more miles than a dozen ultramarathon runners. They’d joined me in my globetrotting, and it’s hard to recall when I didn’t own them.
Now, I know where I bought them. I spotted the shoes on the Georgia Boots website. I had never heard of Georgia Boots, but its site raved about how rugged the boots were and how comfortable they fit.
I didn’t see that as a bad introduction for looking deeper. Like any shoemaker, the company sold a variety of footwear. I wasn’t after boots that made a fashion statement.
But from all I read, the boots the company sold would serve both purposes. I bought a mid-ankle boot, and it came in buckskin (or some sort of suede). From the website, I didn’t expect what came in the mail.
But I slipped them on, and I liked how they fit — I liked the fit a lot. I never saw them as work boots. They were Chukka boots more than anything else.
I had no problem with that — not at first. When I started traveling the world — I’m talking about around 2014, when I took a group of Ohio University students to Europe — I brought my Georgia Boots along for the ride. They handled travel well.
In the years that followed, the buckskin aged, and when I droppe.
