A banana flavoured shoe
Would be an odd thing make.
Next thing you know
there'd be a shoe-favoured cake.
Banana-shaped and yellow
for the most quirky of fellows,
To lace them up around their feet,
The air around them would smell so sweet.
If you're a fan of yellow fruit,
and want to swap out your pair of old boots,
then by all means you should cop
when all the big brands next drop
a banana-themed and flavoured shoe
to show your friends who haven't a clue
that you really know what's hip and cool
Or that you're not a wannabe fool
So give these yellow trainers a feel
Don't let them convince you it's just the peel,
Because if you listen to what they say
You'll only wear them for the day
And in the compost they will go,
Biodegrading, losing their glow,
Cause they actually had great sex appeal,
Those shoes that looked like banana peel.
All posts by hamishcraig
Visiting Peruvian Footwear Markets in Trujillo
I stop in Trujillo every time I touchdown in the country. Luckily for me, the City of Trujillo is known as the capital of footwear in Peru. Now, added to that list of places to visit is the footwear district of El Porvenir, which I visited for the first time during my 2024 trip.
Heading from the hotel, we were told to keep our guard up when walking around the manufacturing district in EL Porvenir. This is due to many thieves and armed criminals in the area, a situation which only worsened because of the economic drought the province suffered during Covid. Interestingly enough, on one of our rides back from the footwear district, the taxi driver informed us that there was a daylight shooting in one of the fanciest areas of Trujillo, proving you can never be too careful. Luckily for us, our ventures to the district were all glowingly positive.
From craftsmen who had worked in the district for over thirty years to ladies who sold footwear components in bulk, you could find each stage of the process. Large sheets of leather all rolled up next to one another would eventually become the uppers of smart shoes worn by the older Peruvian man, a model that seemed to forgo the typical decadence of the European Brogue.
An elderly lady sorting bundles of loose laces stands under a selection of tongue labels from all the most popular brands. She had likely been surrounded by footwear long before I was born, a humbling thought for any shoe dog out there. That said, I don’t think she was lost in thought over any pending eBay bids or going through her mental checklist of ‘grails’, that sort of thing did not hold weight around her stall.
Much of the equipment allowed for repairs or alterations such as the pair of knockoff “AAICS” shoes that were being widened for a customer, as the average Peruvian tends to have a wider foot. Here the machine would introduce a wider metal last to slowly stretch the forefoot portion of the upper and create extra room in the toebox. This was a natural part of the process with no sight of #sustainability posters stuck to the walls. Getting the most out of your resources was just simple logic.
Laces, dubraes and buckles were also available by the bulk load, each vendor willing to bargain with you depending on the size of your order. My Mum picked up 10 sets of flat laces to go with her favourite New Balances, this only set her back 20 Solles or £4.
I on the other hand managed to pick up a small bundle of Nike lace dubraes for less than 50p, a harrowing reminder of how much brands truly overcharge for footwear in the UK. Sure shipping and marketing costs add to the overall retail price tag, however sneakerheads who are easily blown away by extra detailing and packaging would be surprised at the pence per unit difference that these manufacturing costs would actually make. Two extra sets of laces are always an appreciated touch, costing the brand perhaps 10p in addition but a detail that during the video review stage could help tip customers over the edge.
For a minute I thought about going full fugazi on my recently purchased Nike PS8s by adding an extravagant Lacoste or Barbie dubrae but refrained, opting for a simple set of Nike ones instead.
Midsoles were available by the bulk, including the Predator or Air Force 1 option shown in-hand. Did I want a set of murdered-out AF1 midsoles to take back to the UK? Yes, of course I did. Although that would have been a completely unnecessary purchase, not even bothering to ask what the cost price was.
I approached a gentleman cutting off the excess outsole with a sharp blade, all the while making sure not to capture his face in the photo so as to respect his privacy. This did not sit well with him as he wanted his moment in the spotlight, a form of recognition for surely was a line of work he had spent decades in.
Another man around the corner was operating what he told me was a welt stitching machine that had been running since the ‘80s. Punching a needle between the leather midsole and upper, he continued to produce a set of light tan work shoes that would find their way onto the feet of the businessmen of Trujillo.
I had only seen this level of workmanship in YouTube videos or briefly caught the process at my local Thimpsons. Seeing it at the heart of the manufacturing district of El Provinar was a different feeling altogether. A behind-the-scenes look at the creation process of the shoe, an object that continues to captivate my everyday life.
Often romanticised by the industry via New Balance Made in UK campaigns of adidas’ Made in Germany editions, there was just as much experience and knowledge held within the hands of those who worked at El Porvenir. Of course, without the marketing budget and expensive film crew, these stories will continue to go unheard.
My second visit to the district was a few weeks later. I would return hoping to find an elderly lady called Rosa who was the only person able to make a Last for me. The other vendors would all point towards the direction of her shop, each wild goose chase leaving me empty-handed.
“She should be here in the next hour”
“Oh Rosa starts after lunchtime”
“She only works weekends now”
These were the various replies we were told by those who worked there, all of which repeatedly led towards Rosa’s blue shop shutters. While the area was full of skilled workers, she was the only person left who was able to make a custom wooden last. The plastic lasts were widely available for purchase but I only had my eyes set on the traditional wooden ones.
They would make me feel like a man from the 19th century who had just carted in from the countryside into the bustling city. Wearing a waistcoat and top hat, I would stroll into the cobblers ready to collect my new leather shoes for a friend’s wedding so I could look the part. Yet in reality, I would get the train to Slough where I would turn up in my second-hand Balley Loafers which might be made in France but are also in dire need of re-welting (a tangent but a necessary one).
While you can get a wooden Last made in England, these will run you back an eye-watering amount. For example, John Lobb is a centuries-old bootmaker shop in London that provides this service. This age-old reputation does come with a high price tag, so unless you have a budget of £5000, you can put those dreams on pause.
I am sure the shop gains custom for many a wealthy banker and financial director, but my shoe-writing budget has a way to go before it can stretch that far. I am not complaining though, as each cobbler spends on average 2-4 days per shoe, with the more skilled ones creating up to 5 shoes per week. Calculating the manhours behind each pair and the rarity of those skills in today’s world, the price is sadly justified.
In one last attempt, I stumbled across one of the older-looking shops. A stack of wooden Lasts across his shelves gave me a slither of hope, an episode of Top Cat playing from his old box Television.
“Ahh no sorry, I don’t make them. You can purchase one of these though, I’ve got a size 8 you can buy”, Close but no cigar. They also weighed a tonne and space in my return luggage was getting smaller by the day.
I left the district with no wooden Last. That is not to say the time was wasted, as each minute witnessing the manufacturing process was time well spent. It is hard to tell if I would return to the district during future trips, with the mysterious character of Rosa all but lost to the magic of El Provinar (I wouldn’t even know how much she would have charged me either as a UK12 is almost unheard of within that space). Perhaps they will tell her Bigfoot was looking for her, although I would be surprised if I had done enough to earn that reputation.
If you are in Trujillo and love shoes, then I would say it is worth visiting El Provinar provided you are not going alone. Also, do not take your phone out too much and hide valuable items like your watch or chain. Otherwise, enjoy the behind-the-scenes process and maybe pick up some laces or lace dubraes while there!
January Poetry: 24th Rock
This is a rock I really love,
fits in my hand just like a glove,
my bookshelf is where it's sat,
pensive and grey like an old rat.
I found it on my twenty forth,
swimming in a Lake where I saw
this perfect rock I had to take
knowing that my day it would make,
and believe you me I was chuffed,
with this rock in hand,
and my hair all tuft.
It's shaped like half a heart you see,
the other half still wondering free,
Perhaps in Lake Buttermere,
It rests until it is held near
to a warm and constant beating heart
where it no longer feels apart,
or distant from its full self
much like the rock sat on my shelf.
December Poetry: Waterloo Bridge
The clouds were all aligned
as if programmed by someone higher up.
Perfectly silhouetted against the clouds,
the London skyline was allowed to shine,
The city's grand disguise.
For a moment you could forget
it's underbelly,
especially when her eyes were
a beautiful shade of
dark blue.
Yet it's deathly cold waters below
were but a constant reminder
not to let your feet warm,
at least not too much.
Shoe Thoughts: Why Mom & Pop Sneaker Shops Failed
I was listening to Quentin Tarantino talk about video stores the other day. He is not exactly a well-renowned sneakerhead, yet his thoughts about the decline of Mom & Pop video stores had me thinking about the ‘90s sneaker market.
We had the Air Jordan 1 High OG “Lost & Found” drop in 2022, a shoe inspired by the unsold Jordan 1 “Chicago” stock of the ‘90s. Back then the silhouette would hit the sale racks at even $20-40 and still not sell. Thus you would find pairs aging away in the basement stockrooms of Mom & Pop stores out in the US. Mom & Pop stores are just the UK equivalent of independent businesses, an idea that in this day has disappeared off this high street with many saying “support your local”.
Anyway, Tarantino was reminiscing about the time he worked at the local video store, explaining the eventual decline of chains such as Blockbuster. He said that because of the new releases every week and month, the amount of stock that each store would acquire would compound over time. Of course, popular releases would continually get rented, whereas films with a smaller fanbase would fall to the wayside and end up being piled up in the back to make room for other popular releases.
Roger Avery says, “It’s literally a space issue”, in which Tarantino expands saying, “within three to four years you’re literally bursting out of the seams … now all of sudden your tapes are spine facing and it just never stops. If you have a chain you can move things around but if you’re a Mom & Pop that’s just it.”
This is no different to sneakers. However, in the ‘90s there was no internet and online shop spaces, at least not compared to the 2010s and 2020s. This meant that sneakers would eventually pile up and up until they ended up overflowing in the basement.
Similar to the film industry, the footwear industry also worked and works on a constant release cycle, with each month bringing in a new array of drops. This is why shoes would become so heavily discounted to the point where you had the sneakerheads from Japan and other celebrities such as Fat Joe coming into these stores to clear out basements worth of stock.
I thought it was an interesting comparison as I finally realised why exactly these Mom & Pop stores ended up having so much old stock. Even though I worked retail myself, it was a chain where stock was allowed to flow to-and-from the main warehouse (a warehouse which was not only many in number but rumoured to be the size of several football fields). So now I am able to understand these local touchpoints for footwear culture operated in the ‘80s and ‘90s.
The Lost Footprints of Lima
Lima is the capital of Peru. A city that everyone has to fly into to get to any and all of the country’s famous tourist sites. Fun fact: Peru is nine times the size of the UK, which gives you a sense of scale. I have only ever scratched the surface when it comes to what the South American contenent has to offer, rendering me anything but an expert so if you are after such knowledge then this may not be the place for you. That said, what I’m writing about doesn’t require you to leave Lima at all. Better yet, it is free. It is certainly not world-renowned like Machu Pichu or as historically significant as Sacsayhuamán, there is no kudos in seeing it, no bragging rights or boasting to your mates down the local boozer about it … the last of which would likely result in a few laughs on your behalf. Although noticing it is commendable or even noting it would speak volumes about your perceptive skills.
Walking around Lima, it is easy to get distracted by the architecture and distinct energy. For most, this will be your first chance to gather a sense of what Peru means to you, at least as far as city life is concerned. Lima’s pavements, sidewalks or la veredas are like any other city in so much as they get you from A to B. The concrete below your feet that interlinks the large metropolis feels like any other. It is hardly a tourist site in itself, a point I would hardly contest. However, if you’re fascinated by all things shoe-related then the streets of Lima might just be a fascinating space to you.
It had been over two years since I’d had the chance to wander its streets. A persistent mist and elderly men with white beards reading alone made up the mostly unexplored canvas of the city for me. Yet upon this visit, it was neither of those things that distracted me, instead, I found my gaze constantly drifting towards the ground below. Footprints pressed into the concrete pavement were frequent, no longer an accident or detail I could breeze past (pardon the pun). I’d never taken notice of this in any other city, a fact made even more noteworthy as I am someone who has a knack for spotting abandoned footwear (another project entirely). Why were there so many footprints dotted about? What did this mean about Lima and the people who lived there?
Perhaps it was because London’s pavements were built from a different type of concrete, was it that simple? Or was it that the English were too polite? A stereotype of course and an outdated one as London is recognised as a global hub, making it a poor explanation. Maybe it was that the people of London were very adherent to the rules and regulations, the literal red tape that would often surround such a freshly paved sidewalk would clearly be enough of a deterrent … right?
Could it be that the Peruvian government invested more in the public infrastructure? Pouring millions of dollars into the concrete sidewalks of Lima with many of the blocks sectioned off at a time and therefore increasing the chances of accidental footprints happening? This also seemed too simple but I admit there is certainly a logic in this hypothetical. Unlike London, Lima was less rainy which gives the Peruvian people more of a chance to lay fresh concrete … although I think I just made that up.
Was it that Peruvian people, more specifically the Peruvians of Lima, were impatient and therefore more likely to cut corners while traversing the city. Is it just part of the city mindset or grindset? Yet London is a very dog-eat-dog place that has less footprint-covered walkways (this statement is obviously anecdotal as surprise, surprise, I have yet to walk every street in London, or Lima for that matter).
Or was it that the people of Lima were more clumsy and less aware of their surroundings? I could see how consistently great food and weather could contribute to a more laissez-faire approach to life. After all, “watch where you’re walking!” is certainly a phrase that can be heard beckoned by an angry Londoner. Even New Yorkers are known for shouting, “Hey! I’m walking here!”. As far as I know there is not a Peruvian equivalent. This isn’t to say one does not exist as I am not exactly a professor of Peruvian linguistics, if that were the case then I’d have a couple of books to my name.
Was it the lack of literal red tape? I’ve been around Peru long enough to realise that when it comes to construction, things are often not done ‘by the book’. Maybe that book got lost in shipping, left on the shelf or simply not read at all (personally I think it is the latter). Unless under the supervision of some mega construction company, many of the health and safety regulations would end up somewhat flouted. With that in mind, would the tape around freshly laid concrete be completely removed from the occasion? Leaving many commuters around the city vulnerable to concrete-covered shoes. Perhaps there is an inside joke about this among Peruvian people that I will later go on to learn. Here’s hoping!
OR was it nothing to do with Peruvian people at all and in fact all to do with the influx of clumsy tourists. Those jetlagged or broken after walking the Inca Trail would be considerably more inclined to make mistakes.
Whatever the reason, the footprints of Lima are many in number and can be seen sprinkled about. From what I can remember they were for the most part a collection of sports shoe imprints, with few high heels scattered about here and there. It is obvious that it was a vast enough occurrence to trigger a sense of enigma in my mind, leading me to write about it.
I will likely never know or meet the people whose outlined feet are pressed into the capital’s street. I do not mind this, at least as far as the near future is concerned. I cannot however promise that it won’t keep me up at night when I hit the age of sixty. Maybe I’ll be fortunate enough to create a documentary about this one day. You could argue that in a way, these prints are a form of abstract graffiti, one more personal than even your signature. This would inadvertently make Lima a city full of truly unsuspecting Graff artists which although cool, doesn’t fit the bill.
I think there is a logical answer to this mystery but for now I think it is better off remaining unanswered.
If you are ever lucky enough to visit Lima, make sure you look down. If you do spot any footprints be sure to take a photo. Send them in if you do, or if you are actually a part of an underground footprint-based cult then also let me know. But if the cult does any weird stuff then please don’t bother … only do it if it is a space for the hip and friendly!
Thanks for reading this slightly odd thought experiment, one that as a half-Peruvian myself has allowed me to explore my other half (wait that sounds wrong).
England Through Film
“Ahh London aye.” – Me, circa 2023
This is a sentence I would often mutter to myself when wandering the streets of the Big Smoke. That or “Ahh London, the city that never sleeps”. Even though I am well aware this is what they say about New York, or is it Seattle? But they call that the windy city, anyhow. I suppose you could call most Cities around the world ‘sleepless’, with its workforce constantly working through the night to keep the cogs churning.
Whenever I find myself on holiday abroad, specifically in Peru, I watch what I can only describe as England-centric films. Last trip I managed to finally tick off The Football Factory and This Is England, two classics in the eyes of the British. As Danny Dyer continued to bob around the streets of Dagenham and conversations about the Falklands rang through the screen, I was half tempted to pop my collar and shout “You want sum!” at the locals. Luckily I didn’t, as I’m unsure what they would have made of my popped collar, likely confusing it for some lacklustre version of a Dracula performance.
You get the picture, when I find myself in the darkness of night on the Peruvian mountainside, it is not unusual for me to pop in an English classic. On this trip, I managed to tick off three pieces of UK-centric cinema (a feat eventually cut short by the 9/11 Documentaries I became fascinated by but that’s another story altogether.)
These were Withnail and I, A Room for Romeo Brass, I.D and Borstal Boy. Bar I.D and Withnail, the other two were more niche than the other two I had ticked off.
I started off with Withnail and I, a film I’d been meaning to watch ever since Kate Moss had mentioned it on her Desert Island Discs episode as a comfort film. In hindsight, I’m not sure how it could be considered anyone’s ‘comfort film’ but then again, the modelling industry in the ’90s was not exactly a cosy place from what I’ve gathered. Although, there is a certain charm to that film so maybe I’ll warm to it after a few more watches. I enjoyed the film’s humour and the London-heavy feel of the first half, somewhat sympathising with the two main characters in how out of depth they felt out in the English countryside.
I could almost smell their flat through the screen, so kudos to the set design team but all I can say is that I am glad I don’t bump into those kinds of characters anymore. Once I was at a predrinks in Bristol completely sober as I was on medication for tonsilitis when a couple walked through and started cooking ketamine in a saucepan. That is what I was reminded of watching the first 30 minutes, a memory I don’t usually return to in times of peace. Then Uncle Vernon from Hazza P is gay and rich all of a sudden has a questionable relationship with consent… I did like the scene in the country pub though, so there’s that. There’s also a great scene where Withnail tries to cook his boots, which I doubt is a reference to Herzog’s famous shoe-related meal no matter how much I wish it was.
It was clear to me that some of the drug infused dialogue must have inspired Mitchell and Webb’s Sir Digby Chicken Cesar sketches, ones that I believed to be the height of comedy growing up.
Romeo Brass was heartfelt, with the lulls of the midlands accent masking the film’s more sinister tones. There’s not chance that sort of friendship between two kids and a man in his mid-twenties could go on for that long today though, people must have been a bit more naïve in the ‘90s. Sort of reminds me of that infamous Smithy Boy and Crew video from back in the day, minus the heavy presence of a mop fringe and fitted cap.
It’s given me even more reason to check out Paddy Considine’s Dead Man’s Shoes, not least because it contains the word shoe in the title and well you know me. A few years ago a scene where Considine’s character stands up for his disabled brother was doing the rounds on socials, so he must have been typecast as a nutcase for a few years.
Next was I.D by Phil Davis, a film I knew nothing about when I pressed play. Like Football Factory on crack, this one took place slightly closer to home as I spent a few months living next to Shadwell. Cops going undercover to find themselves deeply immersed in Shadwell F.C’s firm, it wasn’t what I was expecting but it was one hell of a watch. Soon I’d find myself shadowboxing in the mirror like a version of Herbo Turbo shouting “Shadwell till I die”, so it’s safe to say Reece Dinsdale’s performance did a number on me. That said, no collar has been popped since the viewing of I.D (only due to the fact I don’t wear shirts or else …).
Last on the trio of Bri’ish films was Borstal Boy, another film I had little expectations of, yet one with a very misleading DVD cover. I did think I was about to watch a prequel to Football Factory, but what I proceeded to sit through was anything other than. All I knew was that Danny Dyer was in it, so it must be alright. Right? Well sort of, it was definitely a film I’d have enjoyed during history GCSE, but it certainly felt like it had a ‘90s TV drama budget behind it. The Irish protagonist was good, and the camaraderie was something to admire but then it got a bit techy when Dyer started lipsing at the end. I guess youth prison is a tough time for suppressed emotions. It was a good watch nonetheless but I do feel like I ticked off one of the weaker underdogs from UK cinema.
Once surprising addition to the British media I consumed while away was Blondey’s new TV series on YouTube. I was impressed by the writing and what I can only assume is a slightly exaggerated version of McCoy himself, it was an entertaining watch. I should have gathered how beyond his years by the clothes he now produces via his brand Thames, as it seemed like he was written as a 21st century take on a P.G Woodhouse character. Although some of the references discussed in the Spanish taxi scene to Santander were lost on me, I could tell that a bigger picture was at play here. If you haven’t given it a watch, I recommend giving it a crack as it is free.
Perhaps it is an element of ‘the grass is greener’ or that after a day of existing, it is simpler to revert to a distant yet familiar space. A space that I am still trying to decode and understand partly through the medium of film and television. With this in mind, I have made a more conscious effort to pick up UK-centric films whenever I see them at the charity shop, which need I remind you is only £1 these days. Sure DVDs have become somewhat unfashionable, but place the disc in one of those zip up folders and you’ve got yourself a travelling cinematic library at your disposal. It does leave you with the task of sourcing as DVD player, but you can cross that bridge when it comes to it.
What Shoes I Wore On My Trip To South America
While my time away may not have been the ‘Grand Adventure’ I wrote about a few years ago, it gave me a taste of what to wear on foot. Heading to Peru and Brazil for just over six weeks, I took 3 pairs of shoes. These were the La Sportiva TX4, Salomon Speedcross 4 GTX and Nike SB PS8. The first two I had already trialled out in my last trip to Peru ‘22 so I knew how they already passed muster, but the PS8 still had a lot to prove.
The night before the flight out I spent umming and ahhing between taking my recently purchased Nike Lava Domes from ‘03 or my just-as-recently pair of PS8s. Eventually, I went with the Nike PS8 simply because they were less likely to fall apart. The Lava Domes I had sourced from Vinted and being over twenty years since they released had me slightly concerned. Unfortunately this meant putting on hold my dream of capturing a shot of me along the Peruvian mountainside that was inspired by the classic ACG advert of the two climbers descending K2. As they say, there’s always next time …
I ended up wearing the Nike SB PS8 until we ascended into the mountainside where I would spend the next three weeks. There I would end up swapping in a pair of Fisherman Sandals I had bought from the Trujillo’s footwear district. These ran me back 120 soles or approximately £20 and had me feeling like a prime Steve McQueen (minus the charm and sex symbol status), a small price to pay considering.
The Fisherman Sandals I wore for the majority of my time in Peru, were similar to our protagonist from Kerouac’s On The Road and how he swore by his pair of Mexican Huaraches. Admittedly, I was clocking in significantly fewer miles on foot, although if we count the number of air miles they tallied up then it could be a close call.
Allowing the tootsies to breathe as well as providing decent protection from any tarantulas crawling about the dark meant the Fisherman Sandals soon became a favourite of mine. Being light enough to carry, I was also able to strap them onto my bag throughout the travels between airports, revealing to me the importance of weight. Romanticising the idea of knocking about in a pair of heavy-duty leather boots during future trips has since become less practical.
Arriving in the northerly beach town of Natal, Brazil would suddenly render my Fisherman Sandals less than ideal. Having a knack for carrying around sand and creating funky tan lines were just two teething points I discovered during my first two days. Not to mention they only helped me stick out like a sore thumb, a fact I tried my best to disguise for multiple reasons. That being said, the Umbro England shorts I wore as swim shorts didn’t aid this disguise.
On day three I’d had enough of my Sandals and wandered into one of the many Havaianas shops along the beachfront. I spotted a pair of football-inspired ones hanging from the racks, a familiar yellow and green beckoning from its spongy sole. At a retail price of 25 Real (approximately £4), they were soon slapping against the bottom of my feet like an old friend (a metaphor which doesn’t really make sense but sounds great).
A week or so later I was in Rio, a city I had longed to set foot in for the past two years. For this leg of the journey, I had booked an apartment about 800 meters from the beach. Here my daily step count shot up and I would find my Fisherman Sandals coming back into action. Getting about the older parts of the city where the financial district and museums were would also mean blending in to avoid any of the more colourful characters and tourist traps. This was also relatively easy thanks to the Flamengo F.C shirt I picked up from the high street in Ipanema.
Once out in the warmer climates of South America, the need for fully protective footwear was less of a concern. This was partly because I wasn’t exactly hiking up mountains each day, although trips into the Peruvian village for dinner at night did mean having to lace up my Speedcross 4s. The longer I can wear open-toed footwear the better, although when it came to steep descents, these types of shoes inevitably fell short.
This leads me to think that a pair of Keen Sandals could be worth trying next time. Either that or a pair of hybrid Fisherman Sandals that has a lugged Vibram outsole glued on. Perhaps even one of the New Balance Niobium concepts however the most minimal section of the shoe usually relies on a slipper-based silhouette, defeating the whole open-toe objective. While I am not seriously considering taking my Fishermans to the Vibram workshop in London to get them kitted out, you do only live once as the famous saying goes. Plus with all the astroturf hybrids coming into fray, I wonder if a trail-inspired Fisherman Sandal is as radical as it sounds.
It goes without saying that travelling for any significant time abroad does mainly concern the climate. For example, my cousin swears by her Salomon XT-6s which she wore for the entirety of her trip around East Asia. Secondly, ‘fitting in’ or not attracting attention plays another major role in the decision-making process.
If you can source a locally-used piece of footwear for a reasonable price, then it not only speaks towards your respect towards the culture you are currently emersed in but it can also act as a symbol of the time spent in said space. That said, if you’re rocking around in a pair of Havaianas and you’re Ed Sheeran, the fiery red hair on the top of your head will likely outweigh your snazzy set of flip-flops… so swings and roundabouts really.
[On a further note, the idea that global popstar Ed Sheeran can simply ‘blend in’ anywhere on this earth is silly – so no type of footwear will help this matter, just in case he reads the blog].
Shoes In Film: Perfect Days
One of my favourite films in the last few years is Wim Wender’s Perfect Days. Upon my first watch, I spotted the main protagonist wearing a pair of GATs (German Army Trainer), the perfect choice for such a character.
Thanks to its sole intended purpose as a military training shoe, the GAT has since been adopted by many fanbases. Whether it’s the Japanese Americana enthusiast, Margiela Replica lovers or just people after practical footwear, the Army Trainer is a classic option for all. Built during the post-plimsole era, the silhouette was an answer to German military personnel looking for a pair that could keep up with the demands of basic training.
Classic lines, a majority leather construction and hit of suede have made this a staple for many, including our main character Hirayama. Certainly tough enough to withstand the rigorous shifts of a Tokyo city toilet cleaner, this is an excellent example of where the GAT is serving a more functional role. As we witness throughout the runtime, Hirayama is a man of few possessions, with his trusty GATs a key part of his work uniform.
In my mind, this footwear-based choice made on behalf of customer designer Daisuke Iga was spot on. Even the white and grey colourway was the correct choice, revealing how meticulous our protagonist is at keeping his uniform clean, a detail made abundantly clear by the bright shade of white.
Other scenes such as the cycle ride with niece Nico show Hirayama putting aside his practical footwear and instead opting for a comfy pair of sandals. Another decision made by Daisuke is that of the traditional slides and how they imply a state of change outside the strict and almost military approach Hirayama takes towards his work. We can also see this through the rest of his outfit and demeanour, not to mention the zen mindset he communicates to his niece – “Next time is next time”.
It is only towards the end of the film in which we see a pair of New Balance 996 in a traditional NB Grey being sported. A shoe which was once a pinnacle of running technology upon its first release, the shoe much like our character is reluctant to cry out for attention.
I have repeatedly watched this film since its release and will continue to do so for years to come – particularly because of the excellent costume design by Daisuke. While the film’s message is totally adjacent to the world of sneaker collecting, it emphasises the importance of looking after our possessions, no matter how much we own. This is a message some of us including myself should embrace.
October Poetry: skY
For the sky was worth marvelling at,
it's clouds,
moons
and starry nights
ever changing.
Much like ourselves,
to constantly shine bright
would leave us fond of the dark,
of night.
(written to Duval Timothy's - Go Without)
wear shoes, write poems 