My Boots
Daddy and I had been in a D/s dynamic for years, when we moved to Houston in 2016. We were living in a 24/7 power exchange but didn't really name it, it was just natural for us. Having spent over a decade in small town Minnesota, where there was no Leather community, we weren't involved at all. We were just living it on our own. We moved to Houston and immediately became involved in the Leather community. We didn't own a stitch of leather - but we were Leather. We integrated quickly and made many friends.
We spent pretty much every weekend at the Ripcord. We had found our people and wanted to immerse ourselves in what we had been missing out on. I desperately wanted a pair of boots. I was obsessed with combat boots and always had been, but we were barely getting by. Daddy was working at a thrift store at the time, and I ended up bar-backing at the Ripcord. Money was so tight and there was no way we could afford Leather. But I couldn’t stop thinking about boots. I looked in every thrift store we came across, and nothing. I checked online, on eBay and still couldn’t afford the Corcorans I dreamt of. Weeks went by, and one day, driving home I saw an Army Surplus store. I felt like I HAD to stop and look. I went in and looked at some boots, new and used and didn’t see what I needed (or anything that I could afford). The woman working asked if I needed help and I told her that I was looking for a pair of used boots in a size 12. She said she would check in back and a few minutes later, came out and told me that the only size 12 she saw was an old beat up, nasty looking pair that were set aside to be thrown out. I asked to see them and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen leather look so grey and crusty - but I wanted them. I knew nothing about bootblacking, but wanted to see if I could bring those old Corcorans back to life. She sold them to me for $10, and I walked out of there so excited about those nasty boots. MY boots. I sat in my car and googled how to clean and polish boots, and went and bought some products and went home to start my project. Daddy thought I was whack for buying those crusty boots - but I knew they were meant for me to rescue. I got to work right away, I scrubbed those boots multiple times with Dawn and followed it up with saddle soap. I conditioned them over and over, rubbing them and loving them and watched them start to come to life. I spent days polishing and buffing and finally, they looked good enough to wear out. My $10 boots looked pretty fucking good - and to me - they were perfect. They were the most beautiful boots ever. And they were MINE. I was so excited when I laced them up and wore them out for the first time. I was in Leatherboy heaven. I felt so sexy and so proud. I felt like a superhero in those boots!
As time went on, I was gifted my first pair of leather pants, and managed to save enough to buy a vest. But nothing came close to making me feel like my boots did. I started sitting for bootblacks and my beloved boots just looked better and better.
That was almost a decade ago. I accumulated other boots, more gear, full leather formals, but never wanted to replace my boots. They were on my feet every time we went to any event, they were on my feet when I became the first Transgender member of the Misfits in Houston, when I was pinned into Mama’s Family, and when we moved home to MN and started attending events in Minneapolis. Those boots were on my feet when I went to my first ever Leather event, South Plains and they were on my feet the first time I played publicly. I wore them when I was crowned Mr. Route 66 Leather in 2023, and when I stood on the IML stage as a member of class 46. They have so much of my Leather history in them and they will be with me until the day I die. And then I’ll probably be cremated in them. I have plenty of Leather and gear now, and other boots - but any time I am asked about my favorite piece of Leather, I still feel my chest swell with pride when I tell anyone about my boots.
My boots aren’t just footwear. They remind me of where I started, and how far I’ve come. They’ve carried me through milestones, heartbreak, triumph, and discovery. They’ve been scuffed, polished, soaked in sweat, pissed on in dark seedy bar bathrooms, and shined again. They are a piece of my Leather story that I can hold in my hands, and every crease in the leather feels like a chapter of my life. When I lace them up, I don’t just feel dressed, I feel whole. I feel grounded, and I feel proud.
And in closing… TIP YOUR BOOTBLACKS, and tip well - they bust their ass to make us look our best!
