By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist

So I'm standing at the Big Jewelry counter at Shirokiya — the one with the jade pendants the size of jabongs and pearl rings that look like they take up two, maybe three fingers — and this smell, sweet and spicy, thick and cloying, washes over me. I recognize it instantly, though I haven't smelled it in years. Brut, by Faberge.

I had to work up the courage to turn around. When I did, the reality before me aligned perfectly with the image in my mind. I took in the sight piece by piece. First the hair. Yup, Brillatine and Just For Men. Then the shirt. Black, tight, and the sleeves rolled up. I didn't want to get caught staring, but I just had to chance a look at his feet. Just a little peek. A fast side-eye glance. Could it be? Was it possible? Yes! Shiny ankle boots with the little zipper on the side. Uncle boots!

I hadn't seen uncle boots since I covered news from the Kaua'i County Council in the late '80s. There were several card-carrying, Brut-smelling, uncle-boot wearing types in the County Building at the time. That's because uncle boots are good work boots. Not like work-out-in-the-field work boots, but "workin' it" work boots.

I first heard the term "uncle boots" from a friend who explained that they're called that because everyone has an uncle who wears them, particularly to parties, because the smooth underside makes for fancy footwork on the dance floor.

I have since learned that the term is gaining widespread acceptance. Walk into Sears and ask for uncle boots and the clerk will cheerfully point you in the direction of the shiny black leather side-zip, stacked heel Florsheim model also known by the style name "Larry."

You have to appreciate the dedication of uncle-boot wearers. Those boots are probably decades old and held together with duct tape and love. New uncle boots are hard to find, and the few available are pretty pricey.

Robins Ala Moana, source of many uncle boots of yore, doesn't have any in stock. Neither does Macy's, though the clerk in the men's shoe department fondly remembered a popular model, also by Florsheim, dubbed "The Duke." Nordstrom's Men's Shoes has a high-end uncle boot by Sandro Moscoloni for $175 and Bernini has a square-toe variation, which is actually more on the young, hip "I party at W" side than the true uncle archetype which is on sale for $75.

Sears has all its uncle boots on sale, but even so, the lower-end Barrington sells for $52.99 while "Larry" costs $110, which leaves little in the budget for Brut.

One final note of clarification, since I know the question will come up: "Auntie Boots" is not footwear.

Auntie Boots is the lady who shows up at family parties with the killer crab dip, the generous one who gave you the money lei at graduation with the $5 bills folded into fans, the frustrated one who keeps trying to get her hard-head husband to get rid of those old side-zipper boots and the Costco-sized bottle of Brut.