This story is about my journey with boots. After reading my first post I realized my boots had a lot of relevance. Before I start off I want to say that I am 28 years old and I have to wear socks on a regular basis because my feet are disfigured because of my boots. People describe me as the guy with the knee high boots.... People looks at me funny because I always wear them. People comment and look at me strangely when I don't wear them so here's how my boot fetish started.
Age 10: I found an army duffel bag in the basement of my house. Some stuff belonged to my father and a pair of combat boots that were his (as both of my parents were in the army) fit my feet perfectly as I was very big for my age. I didn't know my father at that time and they were my only connection to him. I wore them everyday to school with that I was able to fit in army clothes and would dress military regularly....My feet would be sore everyday sometimes they bled but I didn't care.
Age 12: The original boots had fallen apart and Doc Martens were still made in the UK my mom bought me a regular pair of black Docs I never took them off. When I ran away I literally never took them off for months. When I finally did due to having no soles they were able to walk on their own. I literally puked from the smell of wearing them 3 months straight thats when the foot disfigurement started.
Age13: I went to an army surplus store and found a pair of calf high boots for 40 dollars I found a $50 at the bus stop. I wore them that night with a Twiggy dress at a Marilyn Manson concert I got into for free. As they were my only shoes I didn't wear anything else.
Age 14-15: My boots were gone no soles. I went to live with my father in LA and got a different pair after becoming very irrational when they tried to make me wear sneakers. By that time I was thrown into rages and fits when people would give me something less than black leather on my feet. I had a pair of army boots I got from the salvation army. They weren't ideal, but they would do they gave me the support my disfigured feet needed. I was walking down Hollywood Blvd. when I saw Nazi skinheads walking down the street. I saw knee high boots before and my father would tell me that only Nazi's wore knee high boots. But when I saw all of them wearing ox blood and black knee high boots that day I was jealous. I said to myself that day I wanted a pair. I also developed a taste for SS fashion.
Age 15-18: My first high boots I wore them constantly even though they were doc martens they did not fit my skinny legs and I was slightly disappointed because I had the idea in my mind that they would be perfect. I also started putting white bar laces in my boots and became a self proclaimed goth skin-head. Later I became a SHARP (skin-head against racial prejudice) at 16 they fell apart but right when that happened I had run away back to Seattle and some friends of mine stole an entire shipment of high boots so they were instantly replaced and they fit a little better and they gave me the entire shipment. I went to the Park off Broadway in Seattle and found all the Gutter-punks and gave them to all of them. I was known in the gutter-punk scene as the boot-queer! From that day forward everywhere I traveled to I was remembered by my boots. Some of them are still around in San Francisco using whats left of them as patchwork. Others still email me calling me the oi oi boot boi!
Age 18-19: I was in buffalo exchange on goth shopping binge and there they were. Steel-toed knee high rangers. I put them on and they were half a size small for me but I couldn't bare to take them off. They were a little beat up looking but I didn't care. They were mine. The Docs were thrown in the trash some gutter-punk came behind me and dug them out screaming (oi oi boot BOI) I flipped him off and said "fuck Docs!" they fit around my skinny legs. They felt so good even with the pain they caused with every step. They eventually molded to my feet fitting perfectly. Everyday everywhere they were worn then something snapped. I found there were others like me in the underground leather scene. They became something else they weren't just a mark for punk-skinhead wear. They were fetish-wear in the scene I was diving into. Guys I would hook up with would want me to step on them, kick them, walk on them. And leave them on during sex. But just as I discovered that scene I was so badly hooked on drugs that I lost the boots in the move and was no longer sexual due to being on opiates.
Ages 19-23 I went through 3 pairs of boots during this time. None having any meaning to me as they never filled the void that knee highs would. then I completely lost all boots.
Age 23 I was too poor to find boots and was in extreme pain that year. I finally went to the doctor and he made me see a specialist. I don't remember what the doctor said it was. But he said in laments terms that my feet are pretty much fucked without the support of boots. I responded "So are you saying I have to wear boots under doctor's orders?" He laughed but said "yes"
After a year of extreme pain to wear I was prescribed pain medication from not wearing boots I was able to work at a fine dining restaurant. I found a store that sold ranger boots. $169 they were closed the day I went so I made my ex boyfriend pick them up even though rent was due. He picked them up and screamed at me for blowing the money but the minute I opened the box I didn't hear him. I was in bliss They fit perfectly in every way. My feet weren't in pain anymore. I began going to clubs where my kind were who had the same fetish sexually my boots served me well. People didn't understand it. When I slept with normal guys they would hate it when I wore my boots in bed. They didn't quite get it. Finally one got me to take them off and said "oh my god what happened to your feet. The tops of my feet where my shins meet had black calluses on them. I rubbed them with a sense of pride. "They're from my boots." I said smiling. He replied "Oh my god, how could you wear them if they are doing that to you?" "You wouldn't understand. Doctor's orders."
About a year later they were a little scuffed up I would polish and shine them as much as I could. I was sitting outside of a leather bar "The bike stop" in Philly. A hipster came up to me and said "You know you shouldn't wear those unless you're going somewhere important. You're such an attention seeking poser." I just laughed.I wore them every day for 4 years they scuffed up in the height of my alcoholism and drug usage. long story short when I looked at them while wearing them in detox I noted the holes and that the soles were gone. I cried. they served me well. I still wore them because I couldn't part with them. I would look on sites online because that brand wasn't made anymore. I went to the leather shop and a new pair that weren't half as nice as them were $500, I said no. I couldn't afford them. Finally my mom bought me a pair. These ones are higher than the old ones and fit so well. A little loose on top but if they were tighter they would probably be uncomfortable. I can't bring myself to throw the old ones away. I plan to eventually see if I can get the old ones fixed because No matter how nice a new pair is these old boots have so much of a story behind them. that I can't even get into here. Besides some stories are extremely inappropriate even for my personal blog and some parts of the story could actually make money. In the end though I will always be remembered for my boots. I was and always will be the OI OI BOOT BOI!