Slightly sheepish, but content. And well-shod.

So, um...

I bought three pairs of boots today.

Yes, that's right, three.  But the third pair doesn't actually count, because they were a) rain boots and, b) only 10 euro (about $12).  While I was out doing boot price research this morning, I ran into a shoe store having a closing sale, and when I found this pair of elegant rain boots (I bet you thought such a thing didn't exist!  In Italy they manage to make even rain boots look elegant), and not only that, but IN MY SIZE (Another oxymoron, that.  I grew up assuming rain boots were supposed to be several sizes too big.  I thought they just came that way), and you never find decent rain boots here for less than 20 or 25 euro...  And we just had two straight weeks of rain, which convinced me that I really do like having dry feet.  Although, watch, now that I have rain boots, it won't so much as drizzle.

So really I bought two pairs of boots today.  What happened was that I finally got organized/brave enough to go seriously boot shopping, and found a pair of black boots that I liked:

 The problem was that in the process, the woman at the store had me try on this other pair--beige suede (two qualities I was decidedly NOT--I thought--looking for in a boot, since it means "shows dirt well" + "hard to clean"), but ohhhhh I liked them.  Fit my foot like a glove, really comfy, soft as anything, and looked great.  So I bought neither, and went home to think it over for 24 hours, did some checking round other shoe stores, talked to Sofi and Ellie (who both thought I should go for it and get both), and went back today to buy both of them.  They're good quality (and made of real leather) at a surprisingly good price.  And next year (when I'll hopefully have a campus job and be earning money again) I can go back to being frugal and sensible and all that.  Here's the second pair:

As long as I'm on the subject, shopping for clothing of any kind in Italy is an interesting cultural difference.  To begin with, setting up display windows is an art here.  But then there's the whole concept of how you go about shopping.  Italians, when they go shopping, know exactly what they want, and not only enjoy being helped, but expect it.  When you enter an Italian store (which is usually smaller than its U.S. equivalent, to begin with), the salesperson, who is usually the owner or else a family member, will come forward to meet you, smiling and sincerely ready to assist you.  "Mi dica," he/she will say  (the formal, polite version of "Tell me,").  You are expected to know what you want (black boots, size 35, for example), and then you sit and they bring you things to try on.  It's intimidating until you get used to it and learn how the system works.  Touristy places, out of necessity, have gotten used to this strange American practice of "browsing" (when you see a sign on an Italian store that reads "Free Entry", it's not that stores normally charge you to enter.  They just mean that you may come in and just look around and they'll let you be while you do, if you're sure that's really what you want to do and if you're sure you really won't be offended by being left alone).

The place I found my boots is at the other end of the scale--far off the touristy track, frequented by Italian mothers and their children.  The woman who owns the shop not only brought me shoes to try on, but also put them on my feet for me, and showed me how best to fold my jeans into them, and then bustled off downstairs to find others as my requests got more specific.  And when a pair didn't quite fit right, she bustled off again and returned with a little insert sole thingy to make them fit perfectly, chatting away all the while, pointing out the different features and materials and just generally being friendly.  And the whole time she used the formal "Lei" when she spoke to me, which is fairly standard between customers/shopkeepers (I was using the formal Lei with her as well), but still always makes me feel like an official Adult, because you don't use the formal with children, even children you don't know.  It was actually a lot of fun.

Later she sent me along down to the "adult" section of the store a few doors down (this was the "kids" section, but also carried some adult sizes), and when I got there, having learned how all this worked, I marched in, said politely "Buona sera," and told him right off the bat that I was looking for leather boots, black, low or no heels, size 35.  I expected him to laugh at such a detailed request, but he didn't even blink; he just took a minute to memorize the details, then smiled, nodded, and invited me to sit down and make myself comfortable while he went to see what he could do, because, I had to understand, they didn't have many boots left this time of year, but maybe he could find something, yes, we'd have to see what we could do.  I swear Italian storekeepers thrive on challenges.  The more persnickety the request, the better.

Anyway, that's how I wound up coming home with 2 (okay, 3) new pairs of boots today.  And then I played dress up for a while.  The fun thing about boots is that you can pull off (very Italian) outfits like this one: