You’re All Winners… But Only One Will Get the Boots
First of all, a big thank you to everyone who took the time to send in an entry. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t win. It was so hard to decide. SO HARD!! They were super fun (and sometimes terrifying!) to read, so the entertainment mission was accomplished. There are even some Harlequin romance novel writers in the making out there. Who knew boots could be so … naughty?
Second of all, I knew that this was going to be a hard decision and I also wanted to ensure that the decision was fair, so I enlisted one of my favorite fashionable ladies to help me with the selection. My co-judge, Caroline Paquette is the mastermind behind Little Package Hats. Of course, her business acumen and eye for the adorable is not the only thing that qualifies her for the position – she’s also smart as whip and ruthlessly opinionated. I needed both of those things.
While we’re talking about this, I must also point out that Caroline is one hell of a seamstress and fabricated the Matador costume I wore to last year’s Cross Crusade Halloween shenanigans. (She started with an older pair of black Castelli bibs I had lying about and then took it from there). From this woman’s fingers, magic comes!
Ahem, I digress. Rest assured that Ms. Paquette is more than qualified for this position (and I owe her wine and cheese for her time! Thanks, CP!)
And the winner is… Megan C!
I am super glad that I anonymized this process* because Megan is an old co-worker of mine and a good friend. After Caroline and I narrowed the selection down to two, I agonized between them for a good three hours. I was that torn. In the end, I chose the cute “Letter from Your Feet”, told Caroline as much and then opened up the key document that had been provided to me to see who belonged to the winning entry. POW! MeganC!
I appreciated the format and the contrast she drew between all of the prissy, girly crap we do for our feet and the absolute havoc that we can wreak on them when we are going hard. For me, that’s what the Sorel boots are all about. I want a manicure that won’t chip even when I have to change three rear flats in a single ride or crash into the gravel pit at Barton Park. I want boots that look sweet even when conditions outside are straight up miserable. Megan did a good job of capturing that with a show-don’t-tell approach – and her mention of the French anti-reform protesters scored a few bonus points. Finally, I am always a fan of personification of body parts!
Megan – email me with sizing information and shipping info and we’ll get this party started!
Here is that entry, in its anonymized form:
I received this email this morning. As you can see, the situation is dire!
First, we would like to start by saying, thank you. Thank you for the attention you lavish upon us; the pedicures, the lotion, the massages. Thank you for the expensive inserts you buy for your running shoes, the extra money you spend on heels with supportive footbeds. In general, you treat us quite well, and we’re pretty happy, so thanks for that. But SRSLYWTF are you doing to us every weekend!? Don’t you love us? Don’t you want us to stay warm? Why are you randomly plunge us into swampy cold mud baths every Sunday? Some sort of new-age treatment you’re undergoing? This will not stand, it’s time for us to (ahem) put ourselves down. If we don’t have something warm, waterproof, and fuzzy to cozy into before and after this ridiculous post-iceage-meltdown survival training, that’s it! We’re going on strike! And you will find yourself stomping down in the chilling mud-slop on two appendages as unwilling to work for you as a gang of French anti-pension reform protesters!
Good luck this weekend!
All the best,
P.S. We hear Sorel has a wonderful pair of Cate the Great’s that would work nicely.
**Was addressed to the person who sent the email.
Runner Up… Veronica V
I didn’t plan to mention a runner up, but the decision was so hard that I feel compelled to do so. I’m also compelled to try to find something Runner-Uppery to send Veronica’s way.
Her entry was sort of surly, kind of edgy and a little bitchy. And I liked it. I spent the first few read-throughs wanting to kick her in the shin and then the rest of them trying to unravel the mystery of the boy, the tongue brushing and the pig sty. (Pull a card from the WTF files.) It ended with “Try me.” for godsake. That’s good shit. I’m not really sure why, but I’m sure it is.
And it made me secretly hope that I run into her in a bar in Bend at some point so I can buy her a drink. Most of my favorite women in the world have this exact kind of edge and mystery.
Here’s her entry, for your reading pleasure.
I didn’t vote on what boots I thought you should flaunt around all cute like this winter. Like I have time to care about that. But….I do have a response to what boots I would like to receive for free. Mostly because it is a subject I am down with writing about. ME.
The Sorelli is the best choice.
The fact that these boots guard against the potential encounter with a puddle “TO DEEP” I take as a personal challenge. I am magnetically drawn into them. If it is not deep enough, nature will provide a cobble stone and with my shaky, hungover existence those two combine as a gold stamp guarantee to my falling face first into its shallowness. This will no doubt occur in front of a cute guy.
If the puddle is in Portland I will drive three hours and train one million hours to fall into it.
If the puddle lives in a pig stye I will be taken there on a first date and will oddly think of brushing my tongue as the guy moves in for a kiss and my gag reflex moves him to initiate my decent into the darkness as I regret this risk of wearing white after labor day.
I am all up in that puddle- Sorelli boots. Try me.