Traditionally, not the most fashionable foot ware, I have always loved my Converse. I remember lusting over every pair I saw in every store for years until one Christmas....I got a pair! They were beautiful & perfect. Black body, flawless white rubber toes, shiny sliver rivets. My dream shoe. As I grew older, they migrated farther and farther to the back of my closet until I forgot about them. I was more mature; wearing high heels and fancy flats, chucks were no longer acceptable.
I got to college and rediscovered my adoration for these much loved sneakers. Having to walk around exceptionally more than before, my tired feet gladly welcomed the beloved friends they used to wear. My feet were happy. I was happy. These chucks had been with me through many phases of my life. The year I wore plaid flannel shirts and ratty jeans, when my style consisted of preppy polos & dark flare jeans, the summer I painted in the sun everyday (hence the blue paint stain), the years of show choir, tossing off my sneakers for character shoes into the communal pile of street ware (this explains my name in Sharpie), even my adventure around Europe.
Although I wear them less often than before, they are still a staple in my foot ware collection. No shoe, whether it be a fabulous pump or a chic city flat, will ever compare to my black Chuck Taylors.