It's getting chilly out, which means it's time to break out the boots. Not the sissy, high heeled Steve Maddens, or the cool, saucy Kenneth Coles. I'm talkin' cowboy boots. My Western roots are showing, aren't they? Good. I like that about myself. I also like boots. A lot. Don't get me wrong, I own the high-heeled pretty black boots and the saucy tan Kenneth Coles and the warm sheepskin lined boots that everyone loves so much, too. But cowboy boots, well, they just do something to a girl. They make you work, just to get them on. But when your foot slides nicely into a perfectly broken-in, glovelike boot, it feels like home. 'Ahhh!', you're tempted to say. Or I am, anyway. They bestow instant attitude. I have never donned my Tony Lama cowhides without assuming just a bit of the badass. I think I like the badass from time to time. Maybe the attitude has to do with the tight jeans I always wear with my boots. Maybe it's to do with the sw...