Chucks away!

For a chunk of the formative years of my life I survived with one pair of shoes. A trusty, well-worn pair of black Dr Martens boots. Whether it was at school, playing football, formal occasions, sleeping - they were practically grafted to my feet for years, even when they were falling apart and at least one size too small.

I wasn’t making a statement. I didn’t dress to match or fit the look in any way you may imagine – be it goth or skinhead. I was just clueless (although I’m still clueless now, of course). Fashion, trends, the brands in vogue, trainers styles, were alien to me. I liked DM’s because of my older sister, who had hit her teens during the grunge-era and passed me down an earlier pair. I liked them because I could stomp through puddles without a worry. I felt less ill-at-ease with them on, and not just in the face of very shallow reservoirs of water.

My DMs continued to serve me well but eventually I had to move on. I had always been fond of Converse Chuck Taylors, or Chucks as they are nicknamed, so when I started to come into disposable income they were what I bought. The problem is I didn’t just buy a pair or two.

For a few years I went a bit mental and amassed over 30 pairs. The vast majority were used off eBay (albeit barely worn before you starting reading anything sinister into that) but even if they hadn’t cost me that much it was still way more shoes than any rational sane person should need. I had enough to wear a different pair every day of the month, and I did just that upon occasion. Even to work. Often coordinated with t-shirts. I do not doubt that I seemingly looked a right wally, but cared not as I had accepted that I was always destined to look as such to most people long before this episode.

Was I making up for all those years of self-imposed exile from shoe diversification? Probably. Was this my attempt to get noticed? If it was I must’ve been conspiring against myself because it was never going to paint me in a more positive light to anyone except maybe Snoop Dogg. Has anyone ever made a cry for help using shoes?

If that’s what my subconscious was up to it failed. If anything I got more comments when I curtailed wearing chucks day-in, day-out. The love affair was, for whatever reason, over. When your bedroom starts to look like an abandoned shoe shop it’s time to stop.

Over the last year I have progressively got rid of all but 3 pairs and I may whittle that down further (although not literally as it’d be quite messy) to a solitary pair.

I rewarded myself with a new pair of 8-eyelet Dr Martens, thus completing the circle on my narrow but plentiful journey of shoe discovery. They’re not fully worn in yet but they’re getting there. The sad thing is they just don’t feel the same, and I don’t mean in terms of comfort due to the aforementioned newness. Maybe it’s because modern DMs are no longer made in the UK.

Maybe I haven’t jumped in enough puddles yet. Maybe I’m just old.