Wednesday, August 20, 2014

"Just Fryed"

The above phrase was quite common when I was growing up, used in a number of contexts--"fried" could mean "exhausted," from excessive intellectual or physical work, or it might refer to other kinds of excesses.

I was feeling "fried" last night, due to a combination of things: returning home from a four-week vacation with a miserable cold; trying to sort out my three children's school and extra-curricular activities; getting ready for my own school year; encountering 84+ degree days while living in a historic house without super-duper modern central air.

One of my children is entering Grade 7, and her preparations reminded me of another kind of "Fried"--the emergence of the highly desirable Frye Campus Boots when I was in my Grade 7.  I remember the girls who had them with the western stitching; they'd roll up their wide-leg jeans and wear them as a sort of culotte over the boots; other times they'd tuck them in and gently balloon the pants over the rim.  I LOVED that look and desperately wanted a pair. 

 But my parents denied me the boots, probably thinking that the price tag was too high for a tween with growing feet. (In turn I just denied my Grade 7 girl a pair of Coach wedge booties for a similar reason, plus the high heel.)  So I eventually bought, on sale, a "sort-of" Frye boot that was perfectly attractive, but had a zip up the side. Still, I culotted and ballooned with the best of them and made those boots my own.

While in Soho this summer, Mr. C and I ventured into the Frye store and these boots caught my eye once again.  Because they were the pair that got away? Because they represent the remembrance of things past? Or because they'd be perfect for fall and beyond?

I'm still my parents' daughter, though, and would find it difficult to buy something on a nostalgic lark.  But I am asking myself whether I'd like to get Fryed this fall.

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