Easily one of the most iconic shoes, they are worn by everyone from 80’s rock stars to high fashion models and everyone in between, carrying with them an air of being casual yet trendy and effortlessly classic. Mine are old and worn, with memories woven into every imperfection, more than any other shoe could carry. Where others see dirty and old, I see lived in and comfortable. They sag nonchalantly; black canvas wrinkled from wear and discolored laces dangling haphazardly. In the brown, rubberized sole, I see grains of sand wedged between the ridges and bits of dried mud clinging in the crevices. I slowly trace my fingers over the pattern cut into the once-white rubber that runs around the base, now partially rubbed away, streaked with grass stains, and tinted brown from dirt. The black textile has faded in several spots, trimmed in contrasting white stitching. My final gaze falls on the grayed laces woven through a neat row of silver eyelets. When I slip them on, I sigh in satisfaction at the feeling of my feet nestled in fabric warped to the exact shape of my foot. There are countless pairs out there, but none exactly like mine.
More than just Converse
January 26, 2011