'Doc Martens Are Such A Stereotype' Why Have You Worn Them Anyway?

Mine moved with me across the Atlantic, survived Covid, and outlasted my friendship with the person who said they were a stupid purchase. This is my Doc Martens saga. Tell me yours in the comments.

Since childhood Doc Martens have been a staple of my wardrobe. They are a map of where I was, where I am, and where I am going.

I recently bought a new pair of Doc Martens and during the initial breaking-in stage I questioned every life choice that had led here — limping up the stairs of the train on my trek to work. Those questions once again reared their ugly little heads when I sat at my desk and piled bandaid upon bandaid on my sore heels. However, when I looked down at those boots I forgave all trespasses and fell madly in love all over again.

Like getting your first kiss or going to your first concert, breaking in a pair of Dr. Martens is a rite of passage.

The first real “label” item I ever had was a pair of Doc Martens shoes I got for school when I was 7. For a child who spent much of her youth in hand-me-downs, it was a pivotal moment for me. And these were the real deal, not knocks-offs that my mother would have got down the market — these were legit. How did I know you might ask? Because this savvy 7-year-old knew that the cross on the sole of the shoe was the marker of a true pair of Docs.

No doubt if my shoe size had stayed the same, those Docs would still be used to this day.

The Docs come out for every occasion - work, play and red carpet events.

My next foray into the world of Dr. Martens was the 8-hole boots I got when I was 12 and I tell you… It was love at first sight. I loved those boots with the burning passion that only a hormonal almost teenager could have and wore them to death (OK, not quite, but until my shoe size changed again). Unfortunately, I was entering the teenage world of the early aughts, so fashion was dictated by the pop princesses from across the seas (as in the U.S and U.K., I grew up in Ireland) which resulted in the move from flared jeans to low-rise jeans, belly tops, and combat pants. (It pains me to see that the fashion I grew up with as a teenager has now gone full circle, not because I hate it, but because it is confirmation that I am, in fact, old.) While I wasn’t one for keeping up with trends, it did seep into the psyche and Dr. Martens was forgotten about, although an occasional fleeting thought would itch at the back of my head during moments of heavy rain or when a particularly heavy rock song came on the radio.

Ah, the chunky runners of my youth… I still have them.

Fast forward — I am 18 and I’m in college discovering who I am. There are moments imprinted in my memory from my college years which include (but are not limited to) getting my first few surgical piercings, my obsession with stripes, my minor goth/emo stage (which thankfully there is little to no proof of), my daily attire (black jeans, a hoodie and a pair of rainbow, elbow length fingerless gloves) and the day I bought my pair of black 14-hole Docs.

That was a huge purchase for an 18-year-old, mainly because Docs are not cheap. I genuinely put more thought into those than I did for my first car. I was working in a record store (by far the coolest job I have ever had) and I had saved up my money to buy these boots. Although the most coveted pair was the oxblood red ones, I went with the classic black. This decision was made primarily due to “wearability” and black goes with a lot more than oxblood. I went with two friends, who for the sake of the story we will call Diana and Jacqui. Diana balked at the price and tried to convince me that it was a stupid purchase, but Jacqui was all in and ready to support. My relationship with Jacqui and the Doc Martens still stands and both outlasted my friendship with Diana. The moral of the story is to choose both your friends and your shoes wisely.

These boots were worn for the next four years of college. They were worn to every concert, every festival and every night out. They took a while to break in, but I was young and full of energy and I had just dropped a shit ton of money on them. I wasn’t about to NOT wear them just because blood was gushing from my heels! I had to allocate extra time to lace these bastards up, but by god, I was going to wear them. I still have them to this day and yes they still come out for concerts, although I’m mostly sitting these days…

Not included in this article is the white pair of Docs I also own - here worn as part of my David Bowie costume - Winner best costume.

After college I worked an office job, so much of my attire had to focus on “office appropriate.” Doc Martens would not fit into this category. After five years of doing work I hated, I went back to education and entered a more creative field where I’m happy to say I still work to this day. Now the upside to working in creative fields is it allows you to express yourself more. (The downside is the sporadic jobs, the low wages, the long hours… did I say there was an upside…?) And express myself I did, overcompensating with an abundance of hats, and as ill-advised as that might be, I began to feel more like myself again. I haven’t worn a business-shirt-and-heels combo in over 10 years and for that I am thankful.

Now enter the husband — we’ve been together for quite some time so he saw me through all iterations of my adult life and he watched my fashion become more “alternative” as I got older and some instinct must have told him that Docs were back on the menu for me and I tell you he HIT IT OUT OF THE PARK with the presentation of the Di Paulo 8 hole Docs he gave me on Christmas of 2016. These were the business. Featuring the work of Giovanni Di Paolo, “The Annunciation” (it features the Angel Gabriel gifting the Virgin Mary a lily and I can say that on that morning art imitated life as he handed me those boots —I heard choirs of angels sing).

The Angel Gabriel gifting The Virgin Mary a lily which cued my own choirs of angels to sing.

Now those Di Paulo Docs have a special place in my heart for a few reasons. 1) They are fucking awesome. And 2) In March 2020 I moved 3000 miles across the Atlantic to New York City. I brought my spring clothes, and little else thinking I would be back in Ireland during the summer to get the rest of my stuff… I think we all know how this goes right? So in my bag I had spring clothes and my trusty pair of Docs. Dear reader I tell you that I wore those Docs for the majority of lockdown. They’re my Covid-19 boots.

My Covid boots - Since we weren’t really meeting people most photos were selfies during covid and I was not limber enough to get my boots in selfies with me so please accept one of the few full body covid photos of me.

There is something about wearing a pair of boots that just makes me walk differently. My step is heavier for one, and my natural gracelessness is very much highlighted, however, I like how I feel in Docs. I feel untouchable. I am a badass bitch and you better not look at me sideways… or else! (In reality if you were to look at me sideways it might cause me to break into floods of tears). I feel like I can take on the world. They give me an edge that I don’t really think I possess. I’m a stronger person in Docs.

Now I am aware that being a woman of a certain age, living in NY wearing docs basically makes me a walking stereotype. However, I’ve spent the majority of adult life figuring out who I am, so the Docs stay, along with the side parting in my hair and my skinny jeans. I change for no one.

In 2023, I finally got my pair of oxblood docs. It felt special. They still do. I feel in touch with the rockers and punks who came before me, while I sip tea in a quaint little cafe and hope that strangers do not try to make conversation with me. Fucking rock ‘n’ roll.