RIP, dark blue Converse (2016-2017). I broke you in on the red rocks of Joshua Tree. I wore you for eight days straight at Burning Man. I slept in you in a tent, because heaven forbid I wake up in the middle of the night and have to pee, I cannot be bothered to put my shoes on AND walk down the street and around the corner just to piss in a Port-O-John. You’re goddamn heroes.
Long gone, my black Converse. My first foray into “stylish” shoes (read: NOT the cheapest sneakers available at Wal*Mart). Remember being “afraid” to take “style risks”? LOLOL.
Hot on the heels of those:
I remember ye, my second pair of black Converse. Remember when “color” was risky? Better not stray too far from black. Shown next to my first-ever lantern as a ghost tour guide. That lantern broke, ultimately, when the IKEA furniture delivery man dropped my bed on it. It was on a night much like the one pictured above. Let’s pause to remember that lantern as well (RIP) and appreciate how those black Converse show off my ankle bruises.
Fuchsia Converse. You literally helped me move on from a breakup, trekking between my old apartment and my new apartment, moving all my earthly possessions via the M4 bus. I’m sorry I almost dipped you in the Hudson River (pictured). (sorry!) I think ultimately, I destroyed you by dancing your soles off…doing the Tootsie Roll at work and that shuffle dance that the kids do in The Breakfast Club.
I spent so long tracking down the perfect TARDIS blue Converse. It wasn’t easy, and sadly, these I wore through faster than any other pair I can recall. Why? Is it because I wanted you so badly? Maybe.
And last but not least, YOU, my maroon-colored Converse! I wore you until you were falling apart on my feet. And then I wore you for a few more months. Until I tripped over your own guts falling out. You were loyal and dependable and (don’t tell the others) I think I’ll miss you the most.
Newest shoes: got some big shoes to fill