The Boots That Are Moonwalking Back into Your Life

We’ve covered everything from pretty shoes to mountain boots. Why wouldn’t moon boots be next?

You never forget your first.

It’s exhilarating and a little painful, the consequence of a lot of careful deliberation and considerable imagination.

Your first designer purchase is also a lot like neglecting to pick up your dog’s poop. You’ve got to ghost quickly before your neighbor Marfa sees and chastises you for poor judgment and reckless behavior.

For a young Jewish girl beholden to the Orthodox uniform of her high school, the best way to wield individuality was through a jazzy pair of designer shoes. This is how I came to need the Marc by Marc Jacobs Galaxy Boot of yore.

The Marc by Marc Jacobs Galaxy Boot was bold. The Marc by Marc Jacobs Galaxy Boot could withstand the stormiest of storms, the craggiest of Brooklyn sidewalks and the sharpest of stilettos. But even this was difficult to communicate to my mother, who had a hard time justifying a $300 purchase for a 15-year-old.

After much maneuvering and babysitting, I did eventually acquire the moon boots and man, would I be lying if I said I didn’t feel like the baddest-ass mofo at my elementary school. Moon boots represented sovereignty. If their shouts could be heard through the Michelin-man exterior they might say, “We found water on Mars and we’re going to take it!”

They were also, I suppose, ugly as hell.

But therein lay the irony that made them so appealing! Until they weren’t. I ditched them one year later. So long, first loves.

Cut to just a few months ago, when I felt what could only be described as a celestial pull toward a small shop’s window. Displayed in the storefront was an embellished pair of emerald moon-cum-Ugg boots.

Since then, I’ve seen similar styles pop up on e-commerce platforms and in brick and mortar establishments (possibly confirming Amelia’s apocalyptic theory on the return of 00’s fashion).

Mou boots, Rag & Bone pants, Zara jacket (similar here).

They’re perhaps best described as a cross between a mukluk and an astronaut’s shoe of choice. They have the weightlessness of the former and the boldness of the latter. They may not have the Michelin Man feel of the Marc Jacob boot of yore, nor do they take me to Mars, but I’d say they’re one small step for a woman; one giant leap in the fight against frostbitten toes.


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