Ugg!

Where I come from, Ugg boots are considered gauche by many. "Uggies" and "moccas/moccies" (that's "mocassins" to those of you who don't read Aussie Short Form) are often associated with a particular kind of Western Suburbs denizen, the Bogan. Also known as the Westie, the Bogan is considered rough around the edges, and the worst of the working class. Stereotypically they are known for being unemployed, is usually uneducated, hard drinking, sometimes drug addled, have high rates of single motherhood and are given to spates of violence. I think that to the English the term for these people would be "Chav". The closest term I can find for a North American to best understand would be "Redneck".

Their winter dress code consists of a t-shirt (often AC/DC or some heavy metal band) with a flannelette shirt thrown over the top of it, incredibly distressed jeans (often skin tight) or "trakky dacks" (tracksuit/sweat pants), and as I noted above, the Uggs - sheepskin cuff turned down and showing over your pants, of course!

There's something about Uggs that make one who is trying to escape the stereotypes of the West cringe. They're so quintessentially low class that despite their quality construction and beautiful materials, they are just to be avoided at all costs unless you want to be considered One Of Them. The boots themselves are rather big and clunky, and even in the context of a typical Melbourne winter, bloody stupid to wear unless you like walking in pools of your own sweat.

I was a young thing when I swore I would never buy a pair of Uggs. I was, like all my family, encouraged to aspire to more than we were, and to never, ever dress like a slob. Well, I may not have achieved that last goal, but at least I never wore Uggies while I lived in Australia.

That being said, I know you're now waiting for the other boot to drop (see what I did there?).

We were at Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney, waiting for our connecting flight to Vancouver. I was feeling nostalgic because I was going to be leaving the country of my birth; for all intents and purposes, forever. Everything was seen through this weird glow (dressing for the wintery country you're going to whilst in the summery country you're about to leave will make the blood pressure rise), and you may understand that I was more than a little teary.

In this haze I set eyes on the Merino store in the Duty Free shopping area.

I haven't mentioned before how much I love sheep. Not in the Kiwi way, of course, but there's something so very Australian about seeing sheep on a hillside or in a paddock that it often makes me smile or declare, "Sheepies!" while flailing like a dickhead at said flock. It's a good thing that I married a bloke who feels the same way, as this tendancy of mine to gesticulate wildly at random animals might have been a deal breaker.

So here I was, teary, hazy and not entirely wanting to leave, and before me looms the Merino store. Out the front there was a massive display of the dreaded Uggs.

"Hey, it's cold in Canada" the little voice in the back of my head whispers. "Reeeeeeally cold in Canada. And you want a bit of Australia to take with you, right? Why not a lovely warm pair of Ugg boots, made in Australia with real Australian sheepskin?"

"But Uggs?" I counter, feeling the cringe. "I'm not a Bogan!"

"Bah!" says the voice in my head. "You don't have to buy a tan pair; look, they come in black! Also, don't fold the cuff down, and you can wear them beneath your pants! No one will ever be the wiser!"

I walked out of that store with my first ever pair of Uggies. However, I made the Husband carry them, coz there's still a certain standard to uphold, you know?

I have to say, though, that here in snowy Canada my Uggs have been a godsend. Here, away from the sun blasted streets of West Melbourne, Uggs make sense. They belong here. They make walking through snow drifts (and even sinking kneedeep into same) so much easier. In them my toes are snug and warm, and I am much less prone to slipping over on ninja ice patches as I am when wearing regular shoes.

But I still won't turn the cuff down. And I'm not wearing them over my pants. There are certain standards to uphold, you know?