I inherited a love of sneakers from my father. Loud and proud. A basketball pro and historian, he relished in the first time I asked for a pair of Chuck Taylor’s, and I haven’t known many years of life without at least one pair of Converse. In the late 80s/early 90s, he fostered my healthy appreciation for high-tops, which have starred in some significant life-moments, as I will detail here.
I grew ridiculously fast as a child. Particularly in grades 3-5, there were shoe sizes that I skipped over completely. One day when I was in 5th grade, while getting ready for a family work-related event, my dad realized I was wearing some pretty rough shoes. Of course, this would not do, so he told my mom we were going on an emergency shoe run and he drove me straight to the old Hibbits in Birmingham. We get there, and the sales girl asks what size I wear, and neither one of us have a clue. She sizes me at a 9. The soon to be discarded shoes were a 7, and I had long been frustrated that the other tallest girl in my class wore a 9 and I wasn’t there yet, so I was secretly thrilled. We came out of the store with me wearing some super-duper awesome bright red high-tops. Bright red as in – the entire shoe was red. All of it. Upon seeing this, my mom momentarily started a revolt, but then quickly surrendered. And this is how the father/daughter sneaker shopping began.
A couple of years later, my family moved to Virginia. After being there a couple of months, Daddy and I went to get me some new shoes. We came back with some really awesome black and white basketball shoes very similar to the ones pictured in this post. By this time, I was wearing a women’s 11, and so we succumbed and bought some cool shoes in a boy’s size, no big deal, right? Wrong. In a land of military kids wearing matching surf shop t-shirts I was already an anomaly, so showing up in the hottest guys high-tops didn’t help. I had lost count of the number of jokes and giggles at my expense by the end of homeroom the first day. Finally, one of the top JV football players and most popular guys (that picked on me relentlessly through junior high, but also stood up for me), walked up in front of the whole class and said in the most genuine, not-mocking, letting everybody else know where he stood way, “I really like your shoes. Those are cool.”
I didn’t get as much wear out of those shoes as I normally would, because I was already weird enough in junior high and because it made me sad that a great moment with my dad had been tarnished.
A friend recently saw a girl on the quad rocking some high-tops with skinny jeans and looking all the rage, and he said that made him think of me. That made me smile. Last night, outside the Jupiter, I saw a whole group of college girls wearing different-colored fun high-tops with their sundresses. That made me smile too. Maybe I was just ahead of my time, but I love that current girly-girls are styling the basketball shoe of the early 90s.
Last night, the same friend also asked if he was too old to wear his Chucks. As the current owner of 2 pair, I have wondered this myself. Are they a timeless classic or a trend that you shouldn’t wear more than once in life? But, given my history and my dad as a role model, I have decided to never again deprive myself the joy of wearing a good sneaker that makes me smile. Who cares? I have seen my dad contemplate a trendy new pair of basketball shoes and then buy them, wear them to work with khakis for Friday casual day, and have “cool kids” stop him and ask him where he got them with nothing but respect in their eyes. (Granted, my dad is cool. He just is.) I fully expect my dad and I to be shopping for sneakers when he’s 80, and why shouldn’t we? He will always have them. I will always have them.
I’m proud to say that my current Nikes are rocking some great sparkly silver laces. :-)
I grew ridiculously fast as a child. Particularly in grades 3-5, there were shoe sizes that I skipped over completely. One day when I was in 5th grade, while getting ready for a family work-related event, my dad realized I was wearing some pretty rough shoes. Of course, this would not do, so he told my mom we were going on an emergency shoe run and he drove me straight to the old Hibbits in Birmingham. We get there, and the sales girl asks what size I wear, and neither one of us have a clue. She sizes me at a 9. The soon to be discarded shoes were a 7, and I had long been frustrated that the other tallest girl in my class wore a 9 and I wasn’t there yet, so I was secretly thrilled. We came out of the store with me wearing some super-duper awesome bright red high-tops. Bright red as in – the entire shoe was red. All of it. Upon seeing this, my mom momentarily started a revolt, but then quickly surrendered. And this is how the father/daughter sneaker shopping began.
A couple of years later, my family moved to Virginia. After being there a couple of months, Daddy and I went to get me some new shoes. We came back with some really awesome black and white basketball shoes very similar to the ones pictured in this post. By this time, I was wearing a women’s 11, and so we succumbed and bought some cool shoes in a boy’s size, no big deal, right? Wrong. In a land of military kids wearing matching surf shop t-shirts I was already an anomaly, so showing up in the hottest guys high-tops didn’t help. I had lost count of the number of jokes and giggles at my expense by the end of homeroom the first day. Finally, one of the top JV football players and most popular guys (that picked on me relentlessly through junior high, but also stood up for me), walked up in front of the whole class and said in the most genuine, not-mocking, letting everybody else know where he stood way, “I really like your shoes. Those are cool.”
I didn’t get as much wear out of those shoes as I normally would, because I was already weird enough in junior high and because it made me sad that a great moment with my dad had been tarnished.
A friend recently saw a girl on the quad rocking some high-tops with skinny jeans and looking all the rage, and he said that made him think of me. That made me smile. Last night, outside the Jupiter, I saw a whole group of college girls wearing different-colored fun high-tops with their sundresses. That made me smile too. Maybe I was just ahead of my time, but I love that current girly-girls are styling the basketball shoe of the early 90s.
Last night, the same friend also asked if he was too old to wear his Chucks. As the current owner of 2 pair, I have wondered this myself. Are they a timeless classic or a trend that you shouldn’t wear more than once in life? But, given my history and my dad as a role model, I have decided to never again deprive myself the joy of wearing a good sneaker that makes me smile. Who cares? I have seen my dad contemplate a trendy new pair of basketball shoes and then buy them, wear them to work with khakis for Friday casual day, and have “cool kids” stop him and ask him where he got them with nothing but respect in their eyes. (Granted, my dad is cool. He just is.) I fully expect my dad and I to be shopping for sneakers when he’s 80, and why shouldn’t we? He will always have them. I will always have them.
I’m proud to say that my current Nikes are rocking some great sparkly silver laces. :-)
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