Confession time.
I was never the grungy, edgy teen with heavy eyeliner and a fuck the establishment attitude. I was much more United Colors of Benetton, Polo popped collar kind of girl who attempted to charm authority.
Now that I’ve hit 50, aka the land my ‘give a fucks’ went to die, the brooding, angsty in me has been dying to express herself.
That’s the beauty of middle age…the power to reinvent yourself and not a single worry given to what anyone has to say about it. Quoting the wise Sheree Whitfield, "Who gon' check me, boo?"
Because I never had a pair of Doc Martins as a teen, I decided I needed a pair or something similar. I stumbled on this pair in near-perfect condition and in my size for $10 during a recent trip to the thrift store. The rest of the outfit seemed obvious. Nothing says “smells like teen spirit” like fishnets and combat boots.
