I got my first pair of Doc Martens in London in 1985. It was my junior year of college and even then I knew this would be a lasting relationship. I had a pair for all the years that followed. The familiar heft of the thick soles and the ritual lacing up of my boots carried me through new places, scary times, late nights, and a low budget. They gave my politics gravitas, and to my body they lent gravity. With those boots on my feet, I felt grounded and powerful. As long as I had a pair of Docs and a weekly thrift store visit to change up my wardrobe, I was good to go.
Boot closeup: A close shot of a wet boot showing the ridges of the sole, standing on a rock with cabin wall behind.
Boot selfie outside with green moss and cabin: A closeup photo of a person’s feet and legs wearing two Dr Marten boots with jeans, standing on bright green moss with log cabin in background.
Years later, after decades of being vegetarian, I went fully vegan. I stopped wearing leather and wool and other animal products. My curated collection of boots and belts felt sad and off-putting. Sad because of what I now recognized as animal parts, but also because they represented years of my life, searching and finding just the right things that now left me uncomfortable. I donated the lot and went looking for replacements. By then I was older and my priorities were shifting. I went through a series of accidentally vegan (read: cheap) boots here and there. They weren’t comfortable or long-lasting. Nor was my desire to think too much about it. I was busy. I had become a parent, and beginning with my pregnancy, I wore slides and Crocs and flip flops and sneakers, because who cares and who has time, am I right? I watched my kid grow until she asked for her own Doc Martens and for trips to the thrift store so she could shop. I said sure as I laced up my worn-out sneakers and wondered what had happened to me.
Fast forward to 2022, last week in fact: I open the singular box with the flip top and the black and gold lettering. I pull back the paper and lift out a heavy Dr. Martens 101 Felix Ankle Boot. I admire the gold stitching paced around the edges, the ridges in the thick translucent sole, the shiny black boot-ness of it all. I look for the gold pull tab on the back, differentiating it from a regular DM, and for the words “suitable for vegans” printed inside. Why put off the inevitable, I had asked myself a week or so earlier. Don’t wait. Get the shoes you love. Allow yourself an assist in this hard world. Remember your first love. Get grounded again.
Boot selfie with German Shepherd profile art: A closeup photo of a person’s feet and legs criss-crossed, wearing two Dr Marten boots with brown pants and a frame drawing of a German Shepherd dog in background.
Boot selfie with real dog and globe: A closeup photo of a person’s feet and legs wearing two Dr Marten boots with brown pants and a small blurry dog walking in foreground and a globe on the floor.