Above All, Fashion

My friend wrote this post about running in a hideous outfit... and being seen by a coworker in said outfit.

First, I know the feeling. People often refer to my lime green running shoes as "ugly as sin." (It's the South, you know...) I buy the same style of shoes every time I need a new pair because they feel great and keep me company from the rain to the pavement. They are like little friends.

Therefore, I enjoy my "little friends" regardless of their spangles or smudges, and I wonder what our clothes and shoes must feel after we realize that they are a bit worn or gaudy.

Perhaps we keep wearing them until we hear enough, "Hey, did you buy that purple and aquamarine ski jacket off of David Hasselhoff in the 90s?"

To which we might stiffly smile and say, "Good one...heh, heh" while that jacket gives off a little Eeyore sigh and loses a little loft.

Perhaps we realize that we don't wear that pleated patriotic skirt anymore and relegate it to the back of the closet. Perhaps that shimmering gold gown would look better in the donation pile or costume closet. Perhaps that pair of tapered jeans that you just HAD to have are now tapering into the trash.

I don't know what these tossed off articles and accessories must feel like because they can't talk. So, I decided to catch my current "ugly" running shoes and their predecessors in their quiet downtime and then analyze their behaviour. (Did I put on my latest resume that I have great analytical skills? And that I can write "behavior" like the British?)

Here are my old Blues. Tar Heel and proud, their laces are fringed and they hang out by the window. If they were human, they might be relaxed like a grandpappy smokin' a pipe on the porch and telling stories about when they were as bright as the sky and looking up to the original Grays who came with me to Spain. I would hope that they aren't sad and hanging out in front of the window with a brown paper bag of booze or something. I like to think that my old Blues are happy in their retirement. They still get to bounce around town every now and again.

Here are my Blues mentoring the Limeys saying, "It's okay, we were once as bright as you. You'll fade in a little while... enjoy your tread while you have it."
Here they are, hiding from the world while tucked on the "third floor" of the library. They are sneakers after my own feet. I will never give you back to David Hasselhoff.