I bought them in 1996 because I was planning to travel to Europe with my new boyfriend, Michael. They were comfortable, durable, ugly and waterproof. I had seen a TV ad for shoes like them that showed a pair being walked through rain and puddles, the unseen owner pausing in inch-deep water before a larger pair of brogans to rise briefly on tip-toe — apparently to kiss the other owner. This appealed to me tremendously.
And so I wore them and walked in them with Michael across London, Paris, and Antwerp. They proved themselves in Antwerp, when, late on the night of October 31st, we walked arm in arm beneath an umbrella through a downpour, Michael grinning and weaving slightly from the Belgian beer he’d enjoyed as we edged around and through crowds of students out celebrating Halloween. When we got back to the hotel we had to peel off our wet clothes and run ourselves a hot bath, but my feet, at least, were still dry and warm.
For years, they lasted, at last failing on a wet day in San Francisco when I felt rain trickling in and soaking my socks. Unwilling to give them up, I carried them to a cobbler on Polk Street, who did his best. Unfortunately, after he was done they no longer fit as well. I finally gave up on them after an anti-war march left me with a very sore, bruised, big toe.
Still, I did not throw them out. They are stored in my closet, and I toy with the idea of finding another cobbler who might be able to fix them. There’s always hope.
Pam Troy 
2 responses to “A pair of brown, heavy walking shoes, brogans.”
Reminds me of high heel red shoes I had, also bought to impress my boyfriend. They danced well. But gifted me with bunions.
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I had a pair of gorgeous dark-green suede-covered high-heeled shoes that left me with callouses on my heels that lasted over a year. I loved them so much I didn’t care.
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