Last weekend I decided to clean my favorite dirty pair of sneakers. They were in fact the only pair of sneakers that I have owned for the last two years and a half. I thought that since they’ve provided me with good service I at least owe it to try and make them look new again.
I’m not sure if I did it right but I soaked them in soapy water for a few minutes to loosen up the dirt. Then, just as soon as I began scrubbing the dirt and grime off the left shoe, the threading suddenly ripped and completely gave way, leaving an ugly huge hole on it’s front side. So as frustrated as I was to have ruined my old sneakers, it was undoubtedly my queue to buy a new pair.
Though I like shoes, I can’t say that I am particularly fond of shopping for them, most especially rubber shoes. Going inside the mall to shop for rubber shoes or sneakers remind me how old I am (or probably old fashioned at the very least). That’s actually what’s bumming me out, if only the last exact same pair I had was still in production I would definitely save myself the agony of the experience of trying to find a new one that isn't too loud, too busy, too scientific, too space aged, or too aerodynamic. I am not about to argue with the advantages of applied physics on today’s modern footwear, but being a coach potato, it just isn’t something I want to bother myself with.
Because I don’t buy shoes very often I have to consider a few things. First they have to be in a basic neutral color that would go well with the majority of the pants and shirts that I wear. Because aesthetics are also relatively important, they have to look like an actual shoe and not resemble a luxury sports car or some space ship. Also, I don’t know what is wrong with the way I walk, but somehow I don’t evenly wear out the soles of my shoes. So quality of material is an essential point of consideration as well. And finally, due to budget constraints and the daily cost of living, it has to be within the price range of what I would consider to be “sane” and reasonable. I definitely wouldn’t mind paying extra for quality and comfort, but it doesn’t have to be “stupid expensive”.
I do realize how this is all needless stress on my part, after all it is just a shoe. I don’t know, but I think part of my meticulousness stems from the conditioning most lower-middle-classed children deal with while growing up.
Although I came from a relatively averaged income family (not too poor, but definitely nowhere near rich), it wasn’t up to me to decide whether I needed new shoes (queue in the violins to softly fade in now please). I remember a time during my elementary when I had an old pair of blue Dunlop rubber shoes for my physical ed class that were already so old and tight that I think they were already the equivalent of ancient Chinese foot binders. I retired them and had a pair of black Chuck Taylors, which I wore until my freshmen high school. They too eventually had a bout with my growing big toe.
During sophomore high school, I avoided walking on damp morning grass and most especially refrained from putting my feet up because the sole of my leather shoe (which was a hand me down from my dad) already had holes in it. The good right shoe’s sole still wasn’t compromised, but they were so thin and worn out already that I can definitely tell you whether a coin is on its head or tail just by stepping on it.
During college, my best friend Jon and I pawned an old watch to add up to the money we saved to buy Pearl Jam concert tickets when they performed here in Manila. I was forced to wear my school leather shoes because I didn’t have any other casual pair. I actually tried to loan a pair from a friend, but backed out because I had too much pride to borrow something as personal as a pair of shoes. It would have been all right, but while waiting in line at the gates, I ran into an American acquaintance who knew me back from the seminary. After I was introduced to her friends, I heard one of her friends say, “Oh you knew him from the seminary. That figures, who else would wear formal shoes to a rock concert.”
Probably the concept of taking your shoe to the repair shop is pretty alien to most of today’s youth. But it was actually standard operating procedure for me to take your shoes to the repair shop until the brawny leather repair guy just looks at you and says, “Boy, look at me in the eye. Do I look like someone who has a sense of humor?”
I do realize how some people might have had it harder, but I guess that’s why I’m this picky. I still have twitches of guilt when buying a new pair of shoes, especially if it’s what I would consider to be a bit pricey. That urge to grab the old pair and swing it by brawny leather repair guy’s shop never completely went away. But it isn’t a bad thing. It made me value the privilege of being able to decide when I need to replace my old pair and generally just be practical about choices.
I can’t see myself wanting to buy more than three pairs of footwear for my everyday use. I just need one leather pair for office wear, one sneakers for my casual days, and a nice pair of flip flops for neighborhood strolls or something to go along with my trip to the grocery short pants. But having that sense of security that I can buy an extra pair now when I need to is my personal indicator that I have somehow transcended over my personal standards of poverty. It probably explains the sense of excitement and happiness I get when Cathy and I buy Frances new shoes. I will plead guilty if she turns into the next Imelda Marcos.
