The boots’ man.

Anastasia Sukhanov
a Few Words
Published in
2 min readApr 20, 2021
Photo by Antonio Francisco

Black leather. Sturdy. Not Timberlands but neither an office shoe. So more of a boot than a shoe, but not entirely. Just right in the middle of the shoe eligibility spectrum. Reliable simplicity, simple elegance, elegant understatement.

Apparently it’s possible to be sexually attracted to a pair of man’s boots.

The boots reassure about the man: “I can easily explain my job to you without using words that end with -sion. It won’t be banking, or high risk finance, or “NFT nursery”. None of that digital age snobbery.

No flashy brand, no “everyone knows these look like H&M but are actually worth a thousand quid”. These boots would comfortably take their man from a day in the city onto a cold morning beach walk.

Well worn, but not worn out. Aha! He’s practical and likes things for the functionality. Not narcissistic, but neither a total surf-dude. Here’s the problem with surf-dudes: attractive in the barefootedness, they rarely pull off shoes. Or much clothing, actually. If the Little Mermaid was a dude, he would have never managed such a seamless transition from under-the-sea-simpleton into an earth-walking prince.

But this guy’s boots hinted on a possibility of him being comfortable with the elements when stripped off their leathery comfort. Hiking. Swimming. Nothing extreme. Works for me.

The boots’ man is bound to have a great sense of humour.

- “So I’m a doctor.”

- “Your parents must be very proud.”

- “Actually no, they really wanted me to be a DJ.”

That kind of funny.

Me and the boots and the boots’ man would go on long walks and laugh until our abs hurt. We’d do opinionated people-watching and confuse the supermarket cashier.

The boots’ man loves dogs. Medium to big — just like his boot size.

The boots’ man would make a great father. The kind that knows which shape his offsprings like their pancakes, and which bedtime story makes them giggle with delight or hide under the sheets in horror.

The boots’ man is a ‘force tranquille’, a wholesome muse, with an edge you can barely detect. And as he walks, or stands, he would still be a man, in boots or otherwise.