Ode to my Wellies

I decided this weekend, after spending two days, two feet deep in snow (shooting a short film upstate (entry to follow)) that, aside from my mattress, (a lovely pillow-top beauty)my rainboots are my favorite material possession. (My congratulations to whomever identifies how many grammatical errors were made in that first sentence.) I'm sure I've discussed them before, I know I've at least mentioned them, but I think it's far time my Hunter Wellies get an entry to themselves. I mean, just look at them, they ARE beautiful, cute and humble. But don't be fooled, when the trekking gets rough, they always pull through. These rainboots (also worn by the Queen of England, no joke, watch "The Queen" for proof...) have gotten me fearlessly through the streets of New York on days pounded by terrential downpours, puddles the envy of Lake Eerie, and, as mentioned before, I bravely made my way through knee deep snow this weekend and my feet were, well I mean they were dry, not really warm, but dry. Like an air conditioner, a light weight purse that holds lots, and an ability to tune out crazy people, rainboots are an absolute MUST for city life. Mine are beautiful. I love them. I cherish them. And I hope, by some miracle, that someone who works for Hunter sees this entry and sends me a pair in yellow. (Size 9 1/2, please!)