The Boots They Don't Want You to See

Counterpoint: MoonBreak!

As I had sent an RSVP to Seattle Metropolitan, the media sponsor, I went, even though I was sorely tempted to skip it for the Polish poster documentary. I felt like it was my duty to trundle down and report on the fashion "heat" generated by a show featuring models in boots and butterscotch schnapps.

RSVP aside, when the woman ahead of me asked where the check-in was, she was told there wasn't one. "Where do I sign up for the contest," she asked. "The event starts at 5:30 p.m.," she was told. (It was 5:26.) After a few minutes, a blonde model in a black overcoat and black rubber boots--sort of a flasher Holly Golightly--got up on a little pedestal, and I snapped a few pictures until a security guard said brusquely, "No photography!"

Previously, I had been under the impression that people wanted you to take photos of fashion shows? Maybe the rules for trunk shows were different. Fine, I thought, direct me to the hot cocoa and schnapps. Little hiccup there: It was not permitted to serve schnapps drinks, trademarked or otherwise.

I got a half a mug of hot cocoa and sipped it while the models, seeing my camera, vamped in my direction. Even here, things were off: they were young and thin and suited for catwalk work but the Sorel boots looked like their weight might snap their twiggy legs.

A woman loaded with three Columbia bags marched through the store so purposefully I half-thought she might be a plant to stimulate the shopping impulse. The store was not, charitably, full. Desperate, I put in my name for a contest, and walked away with a complimentary Sorel cap with tassel, gray, in the only size they had: women's XL.