I once owned a pair of 1985 Air Jordan sneakers. I purchased them when I was 14 years old with money earned from babysitting.
If I still owned them today, they would apparently be worth anywhere from $3,000-$30,000 depending upon their condition.
I don’t own them anymore, of course, because I wore them out. Played thousands of hours of basketball with them strapped to my feet. Hiked and climbed and did all the things that kids did while wearing the sneakers they owned back when I was a kid.
Before keeping your sneakers looking pristine was a nascent thought in anyone’s mind.
Those 1985 Air Jordans were the last pair of sneakers that I cared about in any way whatsoever. Since then, my purchasing decisions regarding footwear (and everything else) shifted from style and name-brand appeal to comfort, support, and durability.
The fact that I was exceptionally poor and for a time homeless helped this philosophy along considerably.
But if you know me or have ever seen me, you may have noticed that even today, my focus on clothing is limited at best and centers very much on function over fashion. Simplicity over style.
In the words of one of my students last year:
“You really don’t put any thought into your clothing. Do you?”
If I’m ever wearing something that you perceive to be stylish, it was most assuredly a gift of some kind.
Except for last month, when I accidentally bought a pair of Nike sneakers that are apparently cool. I thought I was purchasing just another pair of black Nike sneakers, but I somehow stumbled upon something impressive in the minds of people who bizarrely spend time looking at other people’s feet:
Nike Air Max 270
I only know these sneakers are considered cool because half a dozen kids and two adults have already commented on my sneakers, which really annoys me.
I’m not a sneaker guy.
I don’t want anyone to think I’m a sneaker guy.
I’ve worked hard to burnish an image of someone who cares little about style, despises outwardly facing brand names on any item of clothing, and finds the whole focus on fashion needlessly superficial, a waste of time, and oftentimes classist.
But now I have ten-year-old boys and grown-ass men somehow taking notice of the mix of leather, fabric, foam, and rubber on my feet and saying weird things to me like “Hey, cool sneakers!” and “Nice kicks!” even though I didn’t design these sneakers, make these sneakers, or even knowingly choose these apparently stylish sneakers.
It’s surprisingly frustrating and exceedingly annoying to be accidentally, unwittingly, and undesirably cool, even if it’s only below the shins.
I’ll need to wear them out quickly.
