How have I lived for the past 40 years without owning a pair of sheepskin boots? I last had a pair when I was in my early 20s, and would mistreat them in the way of a person in his early 20s.
I’d wear them to the shops. I’d wear them to uni. I’d even wear them when riding my motorcycle, if motorcycle is the right word for the underpowered Honda step-through I owned at the time.
Thus mistreated, the boots eventually fell apart, still the colour of a sheep, if the sheep in question was covered in splotches of grease and held together with black gaffer tape.
Ugg boots, perfect for every occasion.Credit:iStock
Somehow, I never bought another pair. Sheepskin boots, if truth be told, are quite pricey and I had a tendency to think “oh, I’ll just make do”. I’d wear two pairs of footy socks, one on top of the other, and tell myself the result was as good as any pair of ugg boots. If you remember the old L’Oreal slogan – “Because I’m Worth It” – my personal slogan was more like “Just As Easy Not To Bother”.
Now, courtesy of an upcoming birthday, I’m back in the land of luxury, having been presented with my second-ever pair of sheepskin boots.
“I’m giving you your present early,” Jocasta said. “A bloke your age could catch his death of cold this winter.”
I slipped one foot in, and then the other. I almost fainted with pleasure. It was like my feet were being massaged by tiny, furry angels.
Why do we forget about the things that give us the most delight? A fancy motorcar, should you be able to afford it, is a fine thing, but it doesn’t really match the pleasure that can be gained from a good pair of socks. Or some undies with the correct level of support. Or, most of all, a pair of warm boots.
I’ve never understood the enthusiasm for what are called “luxury goods”. Surely the best wristwatch is the battered cheapie you wear in memory of your father, and the best jacket is the one purchased two decades ago, which somehow still fits. The best possessions come with memories of the past.
Maybe there are other simple things from my early 20s that I could bring back into my life. I make a list of what were, at the time, my principal material pleasures.
Four decades on, I’ll be celebrating my birthday with a bottle of classy shiraz, a meal of barbecued flathead with lots of green veg. My jacket will be fringe-free, and there will be a sensible car rather than a motorcycle in the driveway. Breakfast the next morning will involve coffee from a shamefully expensive machine.
But at least, in one important way, I’ll be walking a mile in my own shoes – the same as the ones I had at 23.
Read more by Richard Glover
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