It occurred to me the other day, while flipping through some back entries of this here blog, that I’m pretty hard on myself, especially when it comes to girls. Admittedly, while sealing the deal may indeed be my most visible typo, I have learned a thing or two about female interaction in the last twenty-five years and, especially, in the last twenty-five days. And, as it turns out, the answer to my female problems wasn’t so much at the tip of my fingers, as it was at the tip of my toes.
Yes indeed, I am talking about my new shoes or, more accurately, my new six pairs of shoes. A good six years after I gleefully declared sneakers the bastard children of my wardrobe in the Skidmore News column which preceded the semi-dormant Jambands.com column which inspired his semi-active blog, I’ve come to understand that footwear isn’t so much about comfort as it is style. Clearly most members of female gender figured this out log before Bill Haley fused country and blues to rock-around-the-clock (case-and-point, the high-heel). And, over the last month, I’ve discovered that wearing nice shoes in a room full of nice girls is kind of like speaking sign language among a group of deaf people.
Like shirts and pants, shoes are, apparently, meant to be changed along with outfits, moods, and occasions. Contrary to popular belief, certain colors even clash (just don’t ask me to explain which ones). Since I’d sit around in sweatpants and a Phish T-Shirt if left to my own devices (the maroon one with the bee-hive I purchased New Year’s ’98 seems to go well with my sofa), I decided to defer all wardrobe decisions to a series of unofficial female-stylists (if any girls are reading this, I think I speak for all non-metrosexual men when I say that the clothed foot is the only part of the female body we don’t notice). And, after a month or so of research, here’s what I’ve learned.
According to my research, (aka my friend Jenny, the shopper formally known as “drunk Jenny”) my old school sandals and my new school, but old school looking Reeves go well with the colors blue, black, or tie-dye and are perfect wet hippie festival like Mountain Jam and All Good, as well as summer trips to Urban Outfitter. Hippie chic indeed!
Not your father’s parlor shoes these lace-less loafers are perfect for lounging around my backyard, by which I mean any area south of 14th St. and east of six avenue. I like them the best because they remind me of the Velcro sneakers I was allowed to sport until 4th grade (I never mastered the art of tying laces in Kindergarten)
3) Grey Sneakers
Though I purchased this pair of New Balance sneakers to play soccer, my co-workers inform me that they are the best shoes for casual, daily life in my office. Yes, I occupy the only cubical in
4) Black Shoes
I am only allowed to wear my black shoes at formal events like weddings, funerals, and Trey Anastasio’s upcoming appearance at the
5) Brown Loafers
An updated version of the brown loafers I wore every single day in 2006, I nabbed this shoe while in
6) Browner Loafers
These loafers were actually the same color as the above mentioned pair before I attended 12 festivals in one summer. I keep them around because they are perfect for any concert where a tweaker may roll over my feet (pun very much intended).
7) Shitty Shoes
I’m currently searching for pair of “nice shitty shoes,” which I’m told can be both casual and stylish at the same time. I guess I aspire to be shitty chic one day.