Between Fashion and Utility

Dearest Rachel –

I don’t know what prompted the images of last night’s dream – and they were mostly images, rather than any sort of coherent storyline – but I suppose that dreams, by their very nature, don’t require a logical explanation. My best guess, however, is that of various memelords and other Photoshop experts, who have created images of just about everything made out of blue jean denim. Be it furniture…

…or flooring…

…anything can be covered in denim (much, I’m sure, to your distress, as you never liked even wearing the stuff as intended, let alone using it for any of these forsaken purposes), and whatever they’re ordinarily called can be renamed by slapping a J in front of the name.

So it shouldn’t come as any great shock (apart from not knowing why I imagined in the first place) that my mind could conjure up the image of cowboy boots made entirely out of denim. Indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing actually existed.

However, whether you could actually get away with calling them boots (or ‘joots,’ if you insist on keeping up with the naming convention) is another matter entirely. I mean, fashion is one thing, but what was going through my head was more like actual cowboy-style work boots made out of denim. The thing is, work boots need to be made out of some kind of weatherproof material, such as leather or rubber. Cotton, even the thick stuff that denim is made out of, won’t do.

And that’s about where my mind was as I woke up with these images in my mind. Just because you call those things boots (or ‘joots,’ whatever) – and even believe they are – doesn’t mean you can wear and treat them like they are. You can’t go rounding up cattle, or walking through a foot of snow in those abominations, quite frankly. You may not precisely ruin them – denim is fairly durable, after all – but you’re not going to be able to keep your feet dry and comfortable in them, either.

Then again, that’s the difference between fashion and utility – comfort isn’t even factored into the mix, I’d reckon.

Anyway, I was going to go on about how believing something is doesn’t make it so, but it sounded better in my semi-conscious head than it does now. The fact is, you can sit on that jouch, or that jair, and walk up those jairs in those joots, if you want to – it’s a free country, and an individual is more than entitled to have bad taste if they want to (and can afford to). They serve the purpose they were intended to, even if the joots don’t really serve as proper boots. So I’ve little more to say on the subject, but just… this is what I was dreaming about last night, for whatever reason. If you found it amusing, great, if not, well… it isn’t as if there’s any deep lesson to be learned.

Take care of yourself, honey, and keep an eye on me until next time.