I am big on shoes, in fact I think shoes say a lot about a person. Last night I was on the Muni, got on at Mission Bay when a man boards at 2nd and King wearing Gold sequined converses. They were cool. I give him "prop's" Run-DMC style. Not everyone can pull that off, but he did. His feet were like two disco balls dancing on earth's dance floor: the Muni. I bet he has that much more pizazz in his step when he wears those. I'll bet his closet is as equally cool if not cooler than Elton John's when he was in Junior High. Come on, you know Elton rocked the sequined converses on the jungle gym.
Cut to a few months back. On the Muni again, (you get to thinking on that thing during long travels) a girl gets on at West Portal wearing aqua blue checkered converses. These were a little different though, they sort of had a kick and some punches of purple. They were exciting to look at. Her feet were like an Easter basket and jelly beans all mixed into one. They were even adorned with cool drawings on the rubber--not the kind you did when you were a kid, like an immature sketch of your name and a marijuana leaf--that were artsy and whimsical.
What I like about these people is they look so blase hair to knees. Then out of nowhere your eyes are jostled with a flow of action-less action for the eyes. It's awesome. No one expects crazy shoes. You expect a "mom-jean" or a funky pink Lacoste polo shirt on a questionably straight guy; not crafty shoes.
Then there are the people who wear those shoes that are so clean. You know the type: expensive jeans, tee-shirt and whiter shoes than Kelly Rippa's teeth. These are the type that wear the same thing almost everyday and probably have laser spot treatments to remove dirt off their loved ones--their shoes. Or maybe a crest whitening treatment type thing for their shoes, because damn, they are so white all the time. I get it though. Your shoes are your life, they are your statement. They say "hey, I keep it in order."
Then there are the shoes that are so worn out that it irks me as to why someone would wear such God awful things where toes peek through filthy fabric and duck tape is holding the heel on. Maybe you are a martyr--you will die for those chucks--or maybe just plain frugal with your money. I try to get it so say the least.
I could never pull off flowered shoes or sparkly sandals. Dorothy did it, but she got paid well, and had a yellow brick road to walk on. It takes a certain kind of person to be comfortable in zainy shoes; whatever shoes those are. I will stick to my boots, moccasins and sandals--what I know best. Maybe one day I will veer to the beyond and get a pair of crazy kicks; however--for now at least--I will admire the feet of others.