Boots, Boots, Boots

Marching up and down again on the runways, they were introduced as part of the "little boy," or sportif look at last summer's Paris showings. Nobody knew then whether grown-up American women were going to be willing to look like a legion of oversized Christopher Robins. Nobody need have worried. Boots are a shoe-in.

The galosh has gone galumphing into oblivion, and in its place is the musketeer boot, the Robin Hood boot, the cossack boot, lined, unlined, fur-topped, made of fake leopard or silk faille or nylon mesh or even real leather. Office girls wear them to work at the slightest sign of inclement weather, carrying their shoes in a tote bag (the smarter ones keep a pair of shoes in their desk). For the evening, slippers are carried in jeweled reticules.

Many a matron has taken to boots, oblivious of the fact that in them most women over 40 look like Captain Hook, not Peter Pan. On the other hand, young women--including some well-heeled, style-conscious teen-agers (see BOOKS)--have jumped in with both feet. A special favorite is the high-heeled, calf-topping black leather model with the rakish, lady-lion-tamer look. Its teetering heels may make it as impractical as a boot can get--certainly not the thing for fording slushy gutters or negotiating icy pavements. A lack of ice and slush makes the high-fashion boot seem even more impractical in Florida and California. But sexiness triumphs over practicality and weather.

A few thwarted leg watchers may grumble that boots have taken all the sport out of the game, but to thousands of other watchers and wearers, boots have been taken enthusiastically in stride. After all, anything is better than the jingling, mushing, clodhopping old galosh.

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