About a month ago I purchased these boots from Walmart for about $20:
I love them. I wear them all the time (literally). The only thing wrong with them is that I had to buy them a size down because they were all out of 7s. Since rubber boots usually run a little big (because they don’t stretch), I thought it’d be okay, but they’ve been pretty tight at times lately, making my poor toes uncomfortable :(
In any case, the reason I bought them is not because they’re practical, nope, that had almost nothing to do with it. My excuse was that I could wear them with my Harry Potter premiere outfit in November (surprise! I love Harry Potter), but that’s not the real reason. For me, these boots embody a world of dream and childlike attitude. That sounds totally ridiculous, but it’s true.
One of my favorite memories from my childhood is of walking alone through the rain and mud on our then-unpaved road to meet my sisters at their piano lessons in my yellow plastic raincoat and black galoshes. I think I was about five years old. I remember stomping in the mud puddles and thoroughly enjoying the rain, since we hardly got any in Southern California.
I also always had a dream of being a veterinarian when I grew up. When I was in junior high, I first read the books by James Herriot.
I loved reading about how he would pull on his Wellies and go to work with the animals. I love James Herriot, I even made it a point to make sure we went to Thirsk (aka Darrowby) on our trip to England this year.
Later, in High School, I was in Ag, or FFA, or whatever you want to call it. Though my animal projects never worked out (just fyi, rabbits need air conditioning or they will die– not my fault though), I had friends who raised steer, goats, and pigs, and they all had rubber boots. I spent plenty of time in the barn and stables–but without the boots– though the whole time I was in there cleaning and caring for the animals I sure wished I had a pair.