Cowboy Boots

The cowboy boot is perhaps the purest, most basic element of Texas style. Hailing from the Spanish vaquero culture of eighteenth-century Mexico, our national shoe features a tall, loose shaft that protects legs from rough terrain and a Cuban heel that provides a sturdy, no-slip grip in stirrups. Though the boots still serve a utilitarian purpose, they’ve also become an emblem of our hardscrabble heritage, and today Texans proudly sport them in just about any situation.

Girl Scout

There’s one!” Page Parkes exclaimed, right before I lost her in a sea of tween-age Saturday shoppers at Dallas’s NorthPark Center mall. It was a November morning at the area’s hottest hangout for the hashtag generation, and Parkes was on what she calls “a human treasure hunt.” She was searching for fresh faces to feed to her network of modeling agencies and schools in Austin, Dallas, and Houston. 

The World at Her Feet

My hands are covered in gold glitter. It is obviously expensive glitter—softer, shinier, and a much deeper yellow than the stuff I remember from second grade. The source is a pair of short $750 Miu Miu boots. The owner of these boots is twenty-year-old style blogger Jane Aldridge.

See Jane Shop

Twenty-year-old Jane Aldridge has spent the past five years blogging about her passion: shoes. It all began when she registered and began posting what she was wearing on Free Dress Fridays. At the time, Aldridge lived in Trophy Club, a suburb of Dallas, and attended a private school that required uniforms. At first she didn’t get much of a reaction, but before long, Aldridge was featured in Teen Vogue and Vanity Fair.

Fashion from the Inside

Houston Fashion Types and Where They Shop

demier cri: she is always first with what’s In, reads Women’s Wear Daily. Wouldn’t be caught dead in a Pucci now but loves Halston. Uses Vogueand Harper’s Bazaarthe way other women use Sears catalogue: she calls her saleswoman at Sakowitz, Neiman’s or Esther Wolf and orders by page number.

Hooray for Big Hair!

It arrives like a blimp, floating ethereally through the door before the rest of the woman’s body does. For a moment, you can look at nothing else. You try to stare at the woman’s face, at her dress, even down at her shoes—but your eyes keep wandering upward. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, you find yourself once again awestruck by that towering, impenetrable edifice known as…Big Hair.


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