Hooves of the Devil

People ask me (they do!) what are my favorite shoes, and without any hesitation I say Florsheim’s Duke line of ankle boots. I don’t go in for prissy John Lobbs or that sort of precious “Old Bean” fetish gear: It’s not my world. Hell, it’s not anyone’s world, anymore. It’s cosplay! The shoes I’m talking about are inexpensive, but beautifully made. Classic cut. Black. Clean lines. Zippers. Leather soles. Wooden heels. None of that elastic band and rubber soles metrosexual nonsense. These boots are true old-school chariots, long worn by the soaplocks, lounge lizards, pool sharks, preachers, guttersnipes, frontmen, wise guys, hustlers, and pimps of the Greater Mid-Atlantic. They force you to walk (and dance The Slop) on the balls of your feet, like a nimble sex panther, like a lynx across the cobblestone wildernesses of places like Philly or Brooklyn. Best of all: SQUARES CAN’T PULL THEM OFF. So get to know them.
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5 Responses to Hooves of the Devil

  1. John L. Observation says:

    Your usual sound judgement has deserted you here my Lord. ‘Duke’? Balderdash! No nobleman should appear shod in what appears to be his Lady’s boots.

  2. Lord Whimsy says:

    Get. Out. More.

  3. John L. Observer says:

    The real Whimsy spins scintillating sentences, not monosyllabic moronic ones. I suspect you are an imposter Sir!

  4. Lord Whimsy says:

    Not taking the bait, troll.

  5. John L. Observation says:

    I’m awfully sorry, I’m English and don’t know what you mean. If you are the real author, then I enjoyed your book very much, but please refrain from unnecessary denigration of English shoes in future. Thank you.