My approach to fashion has always been fairly simple: Feet first. In other words, I’ve been known to buy a brand new outfit with no other purpose than to match my favorite pair of shoes. It’s a nasty little habit that’s depleted my bank account—and converted me into a sneaker junkie in recent months.
In a nutshell, San Francisco is an athletic city…a walking city…a running city if you frequent the Marina Green…and that’s precisely why I love it.
My love affair with athletic kicks began in pre-school, mostly because I was the only one in class who could tie them without assistance. Precocious and then some (save for my phobia of falling into the big-person toilet), I was intrigued by any pair of shoes so startlingly white that it would take me six months of rigorous playground use to wear them in just right. Plus, I secretly found delight in the fact that other children were forced to wear Velcro, the adolescent equivalent of Tevas and socks.
Sneakers make me feel able-bodied, just like I’m back in the sandbox, fending for myself when I come undone. And they make walking lunges more bearable and are therefore responsible for firming my derriere. That alone is enough to justify a new pair every two months, although my mother has been known to call this behavior frivolous.
If the sneaker fits….