Despite growing up in Boston, Massachusetts, bank teller Felicity Hamilton insists on wearing cowboy boots nearly every day. Hamilton has never even seen a living cow.
Hamilton trots around the well-paved streets of Dorchester in her distressed cowboy boots, picking up supplies at Whole Foods and a latte at her local Starbucks, all while wearing the rawhide boots she purchased on Amazon three years ago.
The most appropriate occasion for the boots was a “wedding in a bahn” she attended in Vermont this summer. Unfortunately, her boots were destroyed by the thin layer of mud surrounding the barn, which had not been inhabited by animals in more than 50 years. Hamilton was able to scoop up another pair at the DSW Shoe Warehouse in time for her birthday dinner at a suburban steakhouse the next week.
When one woman asked if she was from “out west,” Hamilton giggled, “that’s right, y’all,” even though she has never ventured west of Springfield. She rationalizes her white lie, saying “I’m always listening to country music when I’m driving my Volvo.”
Hamilton looks forward to the next time she can drive out to Foxboro to see Dierks Bentley and Tim Hicks play live in concert, lamenting that, “these cowboys are the only real men left out there.”
