When I was young (er), what I wore was incredibly important to me. I saw my body as an extension of my creative self. I had a mohawk, dyed with bright henna and always had three black dots on the side of my face. I don’t know why, they just felt authentic. My clothes were baggy, military or black and red. British punk and new wave was my scene and I proudly wore all the pins from the concerts I had attended. I even pierced my nose, long before it was fashionable. A steel ring, some pliers and viola! I did the same to my ears, many times and still sport the “stick and poke” tattoos. I was PUNK!
Like any good punk, Doc Martens were the boot of choice and, at one time, I had at least 10 pairs. They hurt my feet, a lot, so the obvious second choice was America’s answer to punk footwear, Chucks.
I saw these shoes today on the Bloomingdales website, ironically while I was trying to find the value of my last pair of Chucks so I could sell them. I would have killed for these, plain and simple.
Chuck Taylor Converse high-tops were shoes of the gods! In the 80’s it was rare and expensive to find any that weren’t just a solid color. Kids in the know would only accept black or very specific colors. Wear white and we would truly pity you. Later, as the nineties encroached, painting your Chucks became very common. Previously, a sharpie, boredom and s few choice words might enhance their look but now we were cracking out the acrylics and going to town!
A little piece of my soul needs these shoes!!!!! Now that I can afford them, my feet cannot. So, here I am, on my blog, letting my inner child scream for a bit.
Aren’t we all pieces of who we were? Who are you and how do you express yourself in your daily life? I can’t answer this very well today. I need to find ME again.