I figured out why it is I love these little sneaks so much. Admittedly, they’re a huge departure for me and they don’t do my stature any favors. But I just want them on my feet. So what’s the deal? Not runway material… they don’t have any fringe or beads on them…
Then I remembered my E.T. Extraterrestrial kicks. Little navy sneaks with E.T.’s face on the side I wore to death as a tyke on fishing trips in the Florida Keys. My dad tossed me into the water off the dock with them on once, and I shed tears saltier than the emerald-faceted, mangrove-laced waters.
If you wear a lot of heels and boots and such, you forget what it’s like to do things like run down the stairs at work without waking the dead, or cross streets without looking down, or step off curbs without needing, quite literally, a hand. Sneaks make those things that cushion the life of being a woman disappear—you can just be a girl.
I was feeling a gravitational pull toward this look from ShopBop, thus my loose interpretation:
Three cheers for rubber-soled nerd shoes; may I kick at many a pebble while trapped in awkward conversation. Or kick at clusters of pine needles, as the case may be—like I did for close to 13 minutes one night while waiting for Rob to kiss me for the first time.