Doc Martins

Recently, I bought a new pair of work shoes from a discount rack at Ross. After wearing them for a few days, I discovered that they were Doc Martens, you know, the punk shoe by way of the WW2 and tired feet.

I was in the London Youth Hostel in the late sixties when Skinheads (in Dr. Martens) were Paki-bashing around town. A skinhead occupied the bunk below me. He was in fact quite menacing when he returned in the evening after a day of drinking and hating.

Moving forward several decades, I remember watching a punk documentary the Rise and Fall of Western Civilization. One band was based in a tract house in the San Fernando Valley. When they rented the house they'd found a dead house painter in the backyard. He'd collapsed and was simultaneously gross and cool in his deadness. I didn't know him and doubt very much if he was wearing Doc Martens.