High fashion is forgetting those girls who laughed at your brown, high-top boots with the scuffed leather.

Forget them,

because before they giggled

you dressed to the deep

notes that made your feet dance,

not theirs.

Today you walk through the mall after a winter of saving money and then living beside the lake where you pulled on what was clean because no one cared. Not the black crows, or the jack pine, or the people.

Today you discover that those scratched brown boots are the hottest look. Along with those mis-matched prints that you rocked back in your free days.

I say, girl, forget fashion.