A letter from a customer

At 67, my sister pointed out that I'd walked the whole boardwalk without once looking up at the mountains.

Diane Barrows

Jackson Hole, Wyoming · October 2026

The longest thing I write most weeks is the label on the soup containers in the freezer, and my husband Ray still has to ask me what they say. I'm not a writer, and it's never been my place to tell another woman how she ought to dress for the winter.

But three different women asked me about my shoes on the boardwalk in town last Sunday, and by the third one it seemed easier to write it down properly.


It started a year ago, on the same boardwalk. We go every October — Ray, the dog and me — and my sister June came with us last year. It had snowed overnight and the boards were packed to a shine with ice. I did the whole length of that boardwalk holding Ray's arm, with my eyes on the next plank, and when we got to the end June turned round and said it.

Diane, you haven't looked at the mountains once.

I laughed it off, and then I thought about it the whole way home, and she was right. Not just that day. For years, the minute the ground turned to ice, I'd been walking with my eyes down, picking out the gritted bits and letting Ray go first. Packed snow on the church steps, the slick sidewalk outside the market, the slope down to the mailbox. I'd watched my own feet through every winter for longer than I could tell you.

back on the mat by the door after a snowy sunday. that's where they live now.

I didn't choose to walk like that. Nobody does. It creeps up on you one icy sidewalk at a time, until your own sister has to tell you that you missed the view.

How it happens

I used to love a winter walk. When the children were small we did that boardwalk in every kind of weather, and I never once gave a thought to what was on my feet.

What changed wasn't me. It was the shoes.

Go and look at what the stores offer a woman our age for winter. On one side, smart little ankle boots with soles as smooth as a dinner plate, which look lovely in the window and skate on the first patch of ice. On the other, great heavy snow boots laced halfway up your shin, which grip like anything and make you look like you're headed into the backcountry when you're only going to the mailbox.


So you pick the smart ones, because you're stopping for coffee afterwards, and then you spend the whole walk staring at the ground. Or you let everyone else go and say you'll stay in and put the coffee on. I did both, for years.

What I had wrong

Here's the part I had wrong, and I suspect I'm not the only one.

I thought I had to choose. Grip, or something I'd be happy to wear into the coffee shop. I'd decided it was one or the other, and I'd stopped looking.


It turns out it was only ever the sole.

What holds on ice is the tread underneath — deep and chunky, with proper edges to it. What makes a shoe feel like something you'd wear into town is everything above that. Somebody just had to put the two together and stop making the top look like mountaineering gear.


A deep tread under a soft, warm, plain upper that slips on at the door. It reads as a shoe, not as equipment. That's the whole difference, and it took me until 67 and one remark from my sister to work it out.

See the Anti-Slip Winter Shoes Collection

The shoes are called the Aspen

They're from Nancy Susan Moulton, a small boutique in Jackson Hole that's been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now. They have a whole collection of winter shoes with these grippy soles, and the pair I chose is called the Aspen.

A navy slip-on that comes up just over the ankle, softly quilted across the toe, with a little stretch panel at each side so it eases on, a warm fleece lining that shows around the top, and a pale grey sole with that deep tread underneath. They do it in black, red, green and beige as well.

The morning they arrived. I turned one over to look at the sole before I'd even got the tissue off.

The lining is soft and properly warm, which in a wind coming down off the mountains matters more than I'd expected. The snow brushes right off the outside. There's not a single lace, so they go on at the door in about ten seconds while Ray's still hunting for the car keys. And the sole is cushioned, so a long walk is a comfortable one.

 

That's really all there is to it. A warm shoe with a sole somebody actually thought about.

What happened on the boardwalk

We went back into town last Sunday. It snowed from the moment we parked, and the boards along the walk were as slick and shiny as I've ever seen them.

I walked the whole length at my own pace with the dog, and for once Ray had to wait for me at the end, because I'd stopped to watch the light come down on the Tetons.

Three women asked me about my shoes. A lady with a wet retriever by the steps, a younger woman pushing a stroller, and Eleanor, who walks that boardwalk with her husband every Sunday of the year and in all the time I've known her has never passed comment on anything except the weather. She looked down at my feet in the line at the coffee window and said I looked like I'd come out to enjoy it, for once.


From Eleanor, that's practically a love letter.

What I noticed more than the compliments, though, was the view. I looked at it. The mountains white and clear and lovely, and I looked at them the whole way along instead of at the next plank.

The next morning I had them on again to take the dog around the field, packed snow and ice at the gate and all, and I didn't give the ground a second thought.

packed snow and ice. these used to be the bits i dreaded.

Three things I've learned since

One. The sizing is honest. They run from a US 5 to an 11, and the size I always take was the size that fit, with room for a thicker sock on the cold days.

Two. You stop planning your route around the ice. The tread holds on packed snow and slick boards, so I walk where I want to walk now, not where it looks driest.

Three. They don't look like they're for anything in particular. Boardwalk in the morning, coffee shop afterwards, the stores on the way home. Nobody would guess what the soles were built for, which is exactly how I like it.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Aspen is $44.95. It was $112.50.

My first thought, honestly, was that there had to be a catch, because I've paid more than that for snow boots that sat in the garage because I couldn't face the laces.

There's no catch that I've found. They're a small boutique selling directly, so there's no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a sale to move the season's stock before the cold really sets in.

I did what I imagine you're doing now and went and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some sites, which if I'm honest made me trust it more. One woman from Cody had written that she takes her dog down the icy driveway every morning in hers and they've held every single time. That was the one that decided it for me.

Then I ordered the black pair as well, for church.

Shop the Anti-Slip Winter Shoes Collection

What I'd tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting by the fire after a snowy walk and you asked me, this is what I'd say.

If you've spent the last few winters watching the ground every time it snows, letting everyone else go first, offering to stay in and put the coffee on, then it's worth ten minutes of your evening to go and look.

Not because a pair of shoes will change your life. They won't. But there's something in looking up on a winter walk that I'd quietly given up on, and I'd rather you didn't give up on it too.

Two practical things. The sale is on at the moment, and the middle sizes are the ones that go first. And the first winter stock is already going before the cold has properly arrived.

I looked at the mountains the whole way along this time.


Diane

AQUAVANA | QUILTED TRAVEL DUFFLE BAG

4.3/5 Based on 1.500+ reviews

$112.50

$44.95 USD
  • Deep, chunky tread that grips on snow and ice
  • Soft, warm lining round the foot and ankle
  • Slip-on with no laces, eases on at the sides
  • Windproof short boot style, just over the ankle
  • Cushioned sole for long winter walks
  • Navy, Black, Red, Green and Beige · US 5 to 11
  • Free delivery across the United States

Shop the Anti-Slip Winter Shoes Collection

anniversary sale is ending tonight. get yours while the sale lasts.

Diane Barrows is 68 and lives in Jackson Hole with a labrador. She is not a home writer.

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