I have chronically cold feet. I mean this in the literal sense—if we’ve met in real life, you’ll know that I’m the most decisive person ever. The technical name for this ailment is Reynaud’s Phenomenon, and the lived experience of this very-minor-but-nonetheless-irritating syndrome means that I spend November through April of every year trying to keep my toes from freezing together. The cure? Moon Boots.
Moon Boots are impractical, limited-use, and completely over-the-top pieces of footwear. They’re a winter shoe that’s not great for trudging around in slush, given the fact that the soles are slippery and the uppers are prone to staining. They’re difficult to style because they add a good four inches to the ankle and leg. And they tend to make their wearers look like an oversized cartoon animal. In other words, they are tailor-made to my tastes.
Allow me to defend myself here! Moon Boots are not completely devoid of practicality. Moon Boots are warm. The short pink pair my sister gave me for Christmas have hardly left my feet in the months since, and I credit them completely with the fact that I have found this winter so enjoyable. Toasty feet, toasty heart. Moon Boots are also joyful. They’re the sort of thing that are difficult not to comment upon. At this point, I have had countless conversations about my Moon Boots whilst waiting for the crosswalk light to change—a lovely moment of connection in the grey chill. Best of all, Moon Boots a perfectly formed objet d’art, a cool thing to look at in and of themselves. They’re one of those much-riffed upon pairs of shoes (like Air Force 1s and Converse high tops) where the cheapie original always looks better than its upmarket designer copies.
I realise now that I should clarify that this post is in no way sponsored by Moon Boot—I am just a rabid fan. Moon Boots were developed in 1969, the very same year Apollo 11 first landed on the moon. Moon Boots are the brainchild of Giancarlo Zanatta, founder of Italian gear empire Tecnica. After manufacturing his first pairs of ski boots, Zanatta had a vision for shoes specific to après-ski, something cosy for tired feet but still glamourous enough for drinks in the Dolomites. He had reportedly been infatuated with the boots issued to astronauts on the Apollo 11, and thus his own Moon Boot was born.
In spite of my fandom, let me be clear here and say that Moon Boots fall far outside the boundaries of what I would typically consider to be a responsible/ethical/sustainable purchase. They are made from polyurethane foam, pleather, and nylon (yikes). The company is intentionally opaque about the location and process of their manufacturing, a sure sign that unsavoury practices are in use. But sometimes needs must! I need the Moon Boots (okay, fine, I want the Moon Boots), and the best thing I can do is ensure that I wear them as much as possible to offset some of their negative environmental effects. Should you need Moon Boots too, I’ve come up with some really excellent formulas for their extended use.
A note before we begin: In my experience, though less classic-looking than their tall counterparts, the new ‘low’ versions of Moon Boots are much easier to wear. (The tall ones have a tendency to bunch up your pants too much and make an annoying scraping sound when you walk). This is the exact pink pair that I have, but obviously the world is your snowy oyster.
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