Checkered Vans

Checkered Vans! I got checkered Vans! And they have changed my life. Not in a conspicuous way, but in a way that is significant to me. Checkered Vans! Footwear of Spiccoli and innumberable stoned, detached surfer type California dudes. How unlike me, how very diametrically opposite. Which is why it works, really. Because who would expect me -- an if not openly neurotic person, at least one who is secretly so -- to be sporting footwear so clearly associated with laid back beach and skate park creatures? It just doesn't make sense.

And yet it does.

I've had a fear of sneakers for a really long time. Being more of a heels and/or sandals type of gal, I've always been wary of comfortable footwear, at least comfortable footwear for when you're not exerting yourself physically. (Emotionally and mentally is a different story -- I feel more at home and in control in three inch heels than in anything else, generally speaking.) I feel vulnerable in any sort of flat shoe. Bland, uninteresting, vaguely dykish. In high school I went out on a limb and bought some dark green suede Pumas and my (asshole) high school boyfriend made a disparaging remark about me in them. (Honestly I don't remember what it was or I would absolutely disclose it here.) But ever since then I've had a real fear and hesitation about wearing a sneaker.

And yet.

A few months ago I saw a girl wearing checkered Vans and I realized how fucking great they looked. And I kept them in the back of my head but waffled back and forth about whether I a) wanted to rock them or b) could rock them. And in the end, what do you know? I found a sweet ass pair. And they fit physically, but they also fit, um, what's the word? Psychically? Metaphysically? (ok, i'm not really sure that is an appropriate term.) At any rate, they just made sense. And now I run around town sporting my sweet ass Vans. And they attract compliments from young and old, male and female alike. My dad even told me he liked them. (I don't think my dad normally notices shit like that.)

Bottom line: checkered Vans have made me happy. Purchases *can* make you happy. (Selectively, of course.) What you wear says something about who you are. No doubt.

Where are your own personal checkered Vans? Do you own them? You should.

love,
me