I was familiar with the footwear, but in a very different context. My adopted hometown of Nashville has become the bachelorette-party capital of the world, and it is not uncommon to see a tribe of tipsy celebrants teetering down Lower Broadway, each donning a pair of their own newly purchased cowboy boots, talismans of their weekend to remember. And this particular type is quite unlike my legit musician friends here in “Music City,” whose worn-in boots are a component of their daily look, both onstage and off. But these NYC girls weren’t wearing their shoes as a token of tourism, nor as signifiers of any rock and roll leanings. So how then, did this country symbol become a city staple? In a city, I might add, so far from its dusty-road origins?

I did a little digging, and discovered Western wear has been experiencing a renaissance. Stars like Dua Lipa and Kendall Jenner have been pairing their iconic cowboy boots with high-waisted bottoms and bikinis, claiming 2021 as “cowgirl summer.” I spoke to Mel Ottenberg, creative director for Interview magazine and Rihanna’s long-time stylist, who credits the #FreeBritney moment of late as a factor powering the aughts reboot (pun intended). He was in full support of the somewhat unexpected pairing — the nude thong classic bikini with the nude-toned cowboy boot mash-up — deeming it a real “Kardashian flex.”

Here, the boot takes the place of a Lucite heel, balancing the overwhelming sexiness with something still sexy but tough. According to Ottenberg (and TikTok and, evidently, Bennifer), the aughts are back: “the idea of a blog, a trucker hat, Beatrice Inn, Americana, low-slung jeans — everyone is desperate to feel different right now, and that’s where the kids are looking.”

Cowboy boots have woven in and out of mainstream fashion for decades, in part due to being staple footwear for musicians, from Patsy Cline and Hank Williams to Neil Young and Tom Petty. Holly George-Warren, music journalist and author of over 16 books, including “How the West Was Worn,” posits that the boots will always cycle in and out of mainstream fashion, but never really go out of style. She points out that while various other elements of American Western style may hold similarities to comparable items from other countries — take for example, the cowboy hat’s rough similarity to Australia’s Akubra, or the contours of a Panama hat — there really isn’t any shoe in the world as particular as the American cowboy boot.

Part of that specificity comes from the highly functional nature of these boots. The pointed toe was designed for getting in and out of stirrups easily; the heels are a crucial element for keeping the stirrup seated in place. The shank is stronger than on typical footwear, allowing for hours of possible standing up and down in the stirrups. The length of the shaft is high enough to protect cowboys from snakes, bugs, and brambles. Even the embroidery was initially added in order to fortify the leather, making it less likely to crumple and chafe. Finally, the width of the shaft itself — which creates that signature gape at the calf — is crucial for allowing the rider to slide out of the boot easily; if thrown from the horse, the boot stays seated in the saddle, letting the rider slip out and avoid being pulled for miles. They’re easy-ejection shoes, so you can’t get dragged.

The characteristics of the cowboy persona perpetuated by the Hollywood Western — strength, tenacity, independence — are all tacitly conveyed by the wearer. The heels of cowboy boots were even designed to effectively lean back into the ground and resist a stubborn mule or pulling horse — this is the root of the term “digging your heels in,” which also contributes to the image of the rogue, rebellious cowboy (and boot wearer). Tough and masculine, they came to signify not just physical strength but fortitude of character, insouciance to the constraints of the status quo, fearlessness, and spectacle.

So, why are they back now?

There’s the geographical: cut off from flying during COVID-19, Americans roamed west. National parks experienced an unprecedented uptick in visitors during 2020–21. Californians have relocated to Idaho and Montana in droves. Nostalgia for a ranch aesthetic and yearning for footwear to complete the lifestyle stand to follow.

There’s the social: folks are waxed and vaxxed and ready for love. Cowboy boots are unapologetically sexy but still modest, and symbolically (and literally) protective. They’re leather armor. In them you’re hot, and less vulnerable to snakes — but still incredibly cool.

Let me be clear: I am not a cowgirl. I live in Nashville; however, I am not a country singer, nor a music executive, nor am I Nicole Kidman’s neighbor who owns a horse farm. For me, “stable” is an aspirational mental state, not something I’m interested in mucking.

But I myself took the plunge and wore cowboy boots for a week. At first the prospect felt vaguely akin to walking into a Times Square souvenir shop and gluing Statue of Liberty magnets all over my body: so tactlessly touristy and impossible to integrate into my style, which I like to think of as chic.

I thought I knew how it would go, that I would have to begin every encounter with “I’m doing this for a story, not having a midlife crisis.” After perusing some from Tony Lama and Tecovas, I ultimately went with a gorgeous vintage black pair from Lucchese, which felt appropriately classic with not a trace of glitterbilly. These boots could have come straight off the feet of Thandie Newton on “Westworld.”

Immediately, the physical shift the boots afforded was undeniable. The moderate but heavy heels propelled me to lean back to counterbalance, inviting me to swing my hips with each step. Because of their weight, my gait was altered; there was a subtle kicking forward with each stride, which is both jaunty and also subtly aggressive, like pushing the air out of the way as I walk. Also, they are impossible to move in quietly. You can’t tiptoe in a cowboy boot.

Not shockingly, I felt most confident wearing my boots with pants (and not a flesh-tone bikini, bless you, Kendall). I felt most costumed when pairing my boots with dresses. Laura Ingalls Wilder chic is decidedly not for me, and the boots cut off my calf with a mildly stubby effect when worn with shorter skirts (bless you, dancer calves).

I’m less interested in performing my sexuality these days, but I do enjoy inhabiting clothing that alters my experience of walking through the world. I appreciate the way the boots make me feel, and am surprised that I feel that way — an unexpectedness I enjoy in and of itself. Wearing cowboy boots makes me feel sexy, not really because of how I think they look, but rather, because it doesn’t feel possible to wear them without summoning confidence and inner swagger.

I may not ever be a cowgirl, but I may borrow her shoes from time to time.