Pre-pandemic, I used to be all the time one to decide on vogue over perform. Which wasn’t the smartest resolution for all these moist morning commutes from Brooklyn and snowy New York Fashion Weeks I weathered, however by some means I made it work. Over this previous yr, nonetheless, I’ve turn out to be extra sensible—notably throughout these latest particularly snowy winter months. I’ve leaned closely into base layers, shearling-lined mittens, and fleece pullovers as I’ve been spending time in a colder, windier, and snowier, Connecticut. (It’s even snowing as I write this). The days of fast jaunts from my condo to the subway, dodging a puddle right here, an ice patch there in inappropriate footwear are behind me, (at the very least for now).
During the first large storm, I dug up a pair of my mother’s worn in Sorel Caribou snow boots from the again of our coat closet—my leather-based Chelsea’s wouldn’t stand an opportunity in 6-10 inches. She’s had the pair for my total life; they’re really older than I’m. The authentic Caribou model is immediately recognizable with its black and cream rubber soles, impartial suede lace up shaft, and pretend fur trim. When I used to be youthful, I by no means thought something of them. They have been the clunky footwear my mom wore whereas shoveling the driveway or taking the canine out in the snow—actual deal snow boots. But with a considerably newer appreciation for sensible vogue objects and back-to-back snowstorms on the forecast, I checked out her pair of 30 plus-year-old boots with a recent perspective.