March 4, 2010
Do you remember how important it was to have THE right pair of shoes? Even from grade school through junior high, having the right shoes meant so much. And it differed for various groups! In my social circles, it used to be that if you had customized Vans, you were cool. Then, I don’t remember why, it was Converse hi-tops. Then came the Nike, Reebok, and Run DMC led Adidas…
“And out of speakers I did speak
I wore my sneakers but I’m not a sneak
My Adidas cuts the sand of a foreign land
with mic in hand I cold took command”
We had four brothers in my family. We had our dress shoes, school shoes, home shoes, baseball cleats, track cleats, wrestling shoes, etc. We were all growing and growing fast. We outgrew shoes like Obama outgrowing his public favor. We didn’t take care of anything, much less our shoes so needless to say the Parental Units did not splurge on shoes. They were old school -- if you could walk in them, they sufficed. And THAT led to a lot of angst. High school is tough enough but without the right SHOES….well, even if your friends didn’t care what you had on your feet, YOU cared.
Do you remember when Izod was the IN thing? The whole “preppie” years? And how about Jordache jeans? What marketing genius/idiot led us to believe that if we bought expensive jeans with a 2 penny logo on the pocket and even cheaper stitching that we would be BETTER than we were? Did certain clothes make you feel better about going to school? Or did you feel crappy? I vote CRAPPY. I never felt like I fit in. I didn’t have all the right stuff it seemed. And when I finally got the right stuff, it STOPPED being the right stuff. What the heck was this thing called a fashion trend? In one day, out the next. Who could keep up with this stuff? Not me and especially not my parents. While I was getting my fashion tips from Teen Beat, everyone else was picking up on MTv. When I switched to MTv, GQ was the leading source of clothing. What the heck???
What’s funny [not funny ha-ha but funny strange] was that my favorite pair of shoes were my track spikes. AND they were the one pair of shoes that my dad would splurge on. I worshipped my track cleats. They were red and gold with a fade pattern. They were both spirited and cool [at least, I thought so]. When I put them on, I was invincible. And to go along with those spiked shoes were my cruddy pair of red sweats. I bet if I stood those sweats up in the corner, they would have stood on their own before demanding a place to sit down. They completed me. I was Superman in my cleats and sweats. I could step on the track and feel superior if not equal to everyone else. I ROCKED!!!
If I could find them, I would wear them to the Reunion. Clack, clack, clack. I would dance in them. I would flirt in them. I would meet and greet in them. I would get funny [funny ha-ha and funny strange] looks in them. So I better not. Besides, my 42 year old body might get hurt.
So, I’ll just wear a suit to the Reunion. Nothing too flashy or pimped out. Black oxfords, polished. Nice tie, maybe toward the expensive side. No cuff links but maybe a pocket square. Should I break out with a scarf? NAW, too lame. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Oh, decisions. I can’t believe it! I’m all angst’ed up over clothing again…..I just want to have fun. So enjoy this video -- one of the weirdest songs about fashion and clothing I’ve ever heard
Bobby Arellano
bobby@coronareunion.org
