This is timely. I’ve just finished reading Naked by David Sedaris and while the book of essays ends with an amusing recollection of an obscure nudist colony (trailer park) that worships towels, I wonder how the course of events could have culminated otherwise if the fall boot story starring Miranda Kerr in Harper’s Bazaar’s September issue, shot by Terry Richardson were executed on the colony’s grounds. Likely not that differently, maybe just a couple astute descriptions of man-with-thumbs perennially up, but it’s worth a thought.
And here I am contemplating cut out ankle length flat chunky combat boots for the upcoming season while Kerr debunks my theory–see: we know we’re ugly, but you’re ugly too so let’s be ugly together–subtly retorting, “fuck that, (though she probably doesn’t curse,) ankle boots are a vehicle of the past. Wear to the knee. Be naked.”
What are mortal repellers supposed to do with this though? Ankle boots in a stowaway compartment and naked women looking, well, perfect. It’s a brand of power I don’t think I am capable of achieving.
I remember a time when Kerr bat for our team–unknowingly competing with Jared from the Subway commercials in Who Wore it Best: enormous pant edition contests on Man Repeller. Ah, such, such were the joys.
Pictured boots by Givenchy, Tom Ford, Hermes.