My little red ropers

I had these red ropers when I was little. I loved them. They were a particularly nice paring to my Wranglers, custom belt-buckle, starched cowboy shirt and cowboy hat. Don't judge. You know you went through a 'western' stage right around the time of Garth Brooks' release of Ropin' the Wind.

What are ropers you ask? (as if that was the most disturbing part of the above paragraph) They're a style of cowboy boot. Duh.

[See image below for a visual: think a smaller version. They'll be cuter that way.]

Although I'm fairly certain I will never own a pair of these clown shoes again, they remind me a part of me I hope to never lose. The country girl in me.

My business partner and I have been brainstorming company names for a little more than a month now. We both happen to be from Kansas so we are hoping to incorporate some things from our roots. Although this process has given me a ginormous headache, I have appreciated the opportunity to dust off a few memories and explore some areas of my life that I didn't think would jive in this oh-so-fashionable city of Angels.

What I'm learning is that L.A. could use a little country. And although I didn't actually grow up on a farm, the days I spent in those sassy red ropers, stomping through the rodeo grounds and clutching the stirrups of my horse's saddle may be enough cowgirl to make a difference out here in the Wild West.

That said, I vow to keep the ropers as a childhood adornment and replace them with red stilettos. You know, as a reminder to keep things real in a more 'relevant' way.

[NOTE: For nostalgic purposes (and my mom, who may be the only one still reading this blog), I offer you the following gem]