Tahura Captoelari

I was, at first, unreasonably cautious with this pair of boots. It was my first pair of shell and I had somehow acquired a fear that I would ruin them. Sure there was a Thunderdome to compete in but what about water spots?! What about crocking?! What about permanent disfigurement?! Why, you might ask, would I decide to go with a pair of crust shell cordovan boots if I was scared to wear crust shell cordovan boots? Why, you might further ask, would I enter a pair of boots in the Patina Thunderdome that I wanted to save from patina? These would be reasonable questions, and I certainly asked them of myself as I first opened the box to find boots that were almost shockingly pale. This was a leather, I imagined, that would be blemished if you were to so much as think about them too aggressively. And so, for the opening few months, though I wore them religiously, I also wore them carefully. I stuck to the sidewalk, avoiding wet grass. If the forecast looked ominous, I drove to work, rather than ride my bike. I, for lack of a better word, babied the boots. And then my meteorological skills failed me and I was caught in a storm, biking home in the rain. And then I walked the dog through knee-high grass, still slick with morning dew. And then I more-or-less threw caution to the wind and accepted that it’s rather difficult to avoid mud and moisture if one is to wear a pair of shoes religiously. And I discovered that, in fact, it all evens out in the end. With just some Bick 4, some vigorous brushing and miles upon miles of walking in North Carolina sun, the “blemishes” that I’d dreaded, and worked so hard to avoid, spread themselves thin over the leather, darkening it into a beautiful golden-tan that I couldn’t be happier with. Those blemishes became, indeed, patina. By the end of the dome, I wore my boots without checking the weather, wore them to the beach, rode my bike daily through a long, soggy winter, and I expect to keep wearing them for uears to come.