Here I put together a quick video of the abandoned shoes I saw on my trip to the Dominican Republic. Spliced in are a few cows, ducks and shots of the sky because it was truly amazing at times.
I might end up uploading this to YouTube later down the line but for now you can enjoy it on the wearshoeswritepoems domain!
Also shoutout the track Jumping Frogs by Spleen United, a track I discovered during my time out there by complete coincidence. It’s bouncey backing track summed up how I felt about the the other worldly beauty I often found myself in.
How many pairs do you own? If I tell you, will you leave me alone? Depends how many? Is it a lot? I don’t know the number, must have forgot. Surely someone like you should know? Alright, I’ve got about 10 on the go. I use to have an excel sheet, But tracking my consumption made me weap. Still not heard a number, just words and cries, If I gave you a number I would despise, myself for owning so many shoes, my fragile ego it would bruise, so please, don’t ask me any more. Goodness gracious what a bore. Then a bore I’ll be, I’ve only got one pair can’t you see, they’re currently tied up on my feet.
It had been a while since I had last been to Scotland. My only visit was a family trip to the Isle of Aaron over a decade ago. It was beautiful up there. I think that was also the first time I saw a Morrisons.
Edinburgh had been on my list for quite some time, a place I knew little of save for a few passing conversations. My family had recently been up with my auntie and cousin from Peru, shouting its praises thanks to set of beautiful buildings and ‘quirky’ coffee coasters my mum had brought back. The latter of which I must confess to have been enjoying these past few months.
Knowing that most of the UK would be covered in rainfall on my birthday, I bit the bullet and yolo-ed it up to Edinburgh. The pigeons at Manchester Piccadilly seemed increasingly interested in my Song For The Mute x adidas Superstars, fooling the avian creatures with the toast-inspired colourway. I felt bad. I also felt like the pigeon lady from Home Alone 2 (she was kind of a baddie in her own recluse way).
Her rizz has never been matched since
Three hours later and I was in sunny Edinburgh. It really is amazing how small the UK is, a detail easily forgotten thanks to the stagnant wages and Political narratives. We are in far more connected than we know. Namaste.
Walking into the old town, a gentleman playing the bagpipes instantly struck a nerve. A feeling of loss and a deep sense of belonging suddenly passed over me. In those few seconds, I understood why millions of men had died fighting for this country, a feeling that even the sweet taste of Irn Bru had previously failed to conjure.
After dropping off my items at the hostel, I went for a wander. My sense of random exploration had been stronger than ever after my trip to Italy (story soon come), so traversing the cobbled steps of the city seemed all too familiar.
I stumbled across an interesting book shop where I skimmed a book detailing the local history of Yorkshire. I came across the word “cordwainers”, a word I had only recently discovered a few days before thanks to the @worshipfulcordwainers account. A Cordwainer is a particular type of shoemaker who exclusively makes shoes from cordovan leather, which comes from Cordova.
Another book featured this footprint-based prank, leaving beachgoers in Portugal scratching their heads. I am always down for footwear-based humour.
All this exploration had stirred up a sense of hunger, so I found a five-star rated Pizza van around the corner and parked myself on a patch of grass in The Meadows. I also took some snaps of my aforementioned Superstars here, a sign the trip was going well.
A quick shower later and I found a last-minute jazz night going on around the corner. A kind Korean lady called Lucy let me take a seat next to her where we spoke about London. We didn’t manage to speak about shoes. Her partner eventually arrived and we spoke about bachata lessons. I wonder what the best shoes to salsa in are. I once wrote an article about breakdancing shoes, but I have never considered salsa footwear. I bet it’s red and sparkly, like the Latino version of Dorothy’s slippers. I could fuck with that, minus the gingham dress. I would be down for gingham socks though. In fact, you could sign me up for a couple of pairs right now.
I ended up staying until the jazz finished. My favourite track they covered was Lament by J.J Johnson. I didn’t see what the five piece had on feet. I imagine their taste in footwear was jazzy (insert crazy tongue out emoji here).
I woke up the next day in my pod-based cabin feeling a year older (literally and figuratively). I headed out hoping to come across some abandoned shoes. FYI nowhere in Edinburgh do birthday discounts btw. A real shame. After a fry-up up I found myself passing through the National Galleries of Scotland. I quickly realised I didn’t fancy spending my day of birth taking in too much history so the visit was swift (hold the Taylor).
It was here that I came across Anne Redpath’s The Indian Rug (or Red Slippers). This was the only footwear-based painting I spotted. Those slippers would make great salsa dancing shoes.
Stepping out the gallery I felt an overwhelming sense of tiredness as I recalled how exhausted I was post my trip to Italy. Copious amounts of espresso and history was a beautifully powerful combination. Yet not one I was looking to repeat on this rainy day.
I then wandered into a retro football shirt shop (lads, lads, lads) and spotted a beautiful Paraguayan Puma shirt from the ‘90s. Had it not been for the £80 price tag, you might have caught me knee sliding up and down the Northern Quarter. Opting for another favourite of mine in the Anelka butterfly celebration would be undoubtedly more practical for the concrete terrain around NQ.
I did spot this cool adidas print advert in an old footy programme. Stern looks, slicked back wigs and leather boots – reckon these two could have really pioneered the #bootsonlysummer movement had they been born in this day and age. Although they would have likely veered towards splitting the G rather than monetising their social media following. As UK artist Headie One had previously voiced, these guys certainly could have been “doing up both”.
Soon after, I finally came across my first pair of ‘abandoned shoes’ in the form of some hotel slippers. Now, unlike a lot of discarded footwear, the client base for hotel slippers is stereotypically a more refined one. Unlikely to be a resident crack head, the slippers would soon come into the possession of one of Edinburgh’s finest tweakers. Appearing to be doing an impression of a pavement-proficient Hugh Hefner, said crackhead would then only be missing a pipe and expensive silk robe to complete the look.
My footsteps then took me into a local Clarks where I managed to stop myself from purchasing a dark green pair of Wallabees. Instead, and as a wonderful testament to my ageing feet, I purchased a pair of supportive insoles. I hadn’t purchased any in donkey’s years, somewhat hesitant of their claims to foot health. I was and still am a believer in building strong feet.
In that moment, the feeling of a new set insoles was more sensible than buying some new £200 leather hiking boots, although that small Italian flag tab poking out from the ankle collar would look real ace right about now. The gentleman also gave me the lowdown on why each hiking boot catered to different people. Also, did you know that it costs about two hundred thousand dollars to climb Mount Everest! Who knew.
Pre this kid absolutely dripped out to the nines!
A few hours of wandering later and I was in the quaint streets of Stockbridge. The many charity shops had me feeling like a 2022 version of myself, scouring the bookshelves for any fun shoe-based prints and information. A £4 copy of The Design Museum’s Designing the Beautiful Game tickled my fancy, but I managed to refrain. Clearly I had grown wise in my old age. Slay?
I then came across The Complete Guide To Stretching with the lady on the cover mid-pose. Rocking a pair of what I originally suspected were Air Span IIs, a little search revealed she was in fact wearing a pair of Air Icarus in the “Grape” make-up.
Interestingly enough, I came across a similar pair minutes later skimming through this 1000 Album Covers book with the curator Michael Och laced up in a black and olive version of the Air Icarus. Paired with the a light acid wash denim, his fit was typically ‘90s. Definitely a look you could have found me in during my time as a stocky in Manny. Maybe minus the black leather jacket and spectacles. His hair was hair-ing as the youth say!
I also spotted an album cover from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers Abbey Road EP that I hadn’t seen before. Apart from the fact that they are obviously naked, the band member at the front, who looks to be lead guitarist John Frusciante has got on a pair of New Balances. Now in the hall of famous New Balance adorned photos, it is no surprise that this album cover image doesn’t feature. From what I can make out, it looks like a pair of New Balance 475s from the angle of his front foot. Given the size of the “N” logo and heel cradle at the rear. However, they could just as easily be a pair of NB 576s or 574s.
Another fun find was this fashion book solely focused on Madonna. We forget how much of a style icon she was back in her heyday. Knowing she frequently features on the Instagram account @trainer.spotting, I knew flicking through the book would guarantee finding a heavy set of webs.
This proved true as a photo collage revealed Madonna wearing white and black Nike Air Rifts, as well as the recently retro-ed Nike Air Max Craze. Having said that, I don’t think the triple white colourway has dropped in 2025 just yet.
Also look at this cool drawing of these blue Tassel Loafers.
It was on the evening of my birthday that I finally came across a solid abandoned footwear find. Similar to the many cases I found in Napoli, this pair of Footjoy Golf shoes were parked up next to a bin. Annoyingly I noticed these during my birthday ice cream so grabbing the shot provided more difficult than usual as I balanced my double scoop in the other hand. I will say that the Kiwi sorbet tasted a whole lot more fulfilling after that find.
Later on during my evening stroll I noticed a number of shoe plant pots. This person clearly had an affinity for both plants and recycling as their porch was decked out with a whole slew of them #sustainablequeen/king. My favourite of the bunch was obviously the adidas Rekords in the corner. Long had I thought about using my old sneakers as plant pots, so seeing this played out my ideas into reality (this idea was pre sneaker plants fyi). You will soon be able to purchase a similar style of shoe pots from my Etsy account (big things soon come).
I would have loved to speak to the owner of the house, but knocking on their door at near-midnight would not have faired well in terms of a friendly interaction. Now I think about it I could have posted a slip through the door asking them to send me a reply via email but I think that would constitute as ‘doing too much’, or perhaps harassment… it’s a fine line.
The next day provided less footwear-based thrills. This was mainly due to the fact that I was relatively pooped by that point. A quick tram journey down Leith walk informed me of this oddly named tram stop. Bar that the Sunday was quiet.
Shivering my way back to Manchester thanks to a heavily air-conditioned train cabin made the journey all the longer. Planting my tooties back in Manny, I realised how vibrant Cottonopolis actually was. This could have been due to Park Life taking place up the road, so the amount of Nike Miller Ts and Under Armour shorts were out doing the rounds.
As the double espresso now begins to wear out, I will say that I would love to return to Scotland again. Next time I’ll put a heavier focus on highland cows, regardless of the fact that they don’t wear shoes.
I headed up on the Friday afternoon in a pair of New Balance 996. An apt choice considering I’d be walking down memory lane in both senses of the term. There is likely a street called “Memory Lane” in Manchester. That said, I did not see it.
NB 996s laced up, a shoe considered the connoisseurs’ choice within the community, I made my way up to the red brick city. It was a while until I came across my first pair of abandoned shoes.
After celebrating my mate’s 30th birthday, Sunday was somewhat of a struggle. Breaking out of the hangover slump, I trekked over to Victoria Baths where the kilo sale was. On the route I came across these youth-sized Nikes. Whether they were actually discarded or not I am unsure. Sat suspiciously close to a set of bins, it was also safe to assume the owner was ready to part ways.
I eventually made it to the kilo sale fair. Disappointing. No stripey jumpers. At least no really cool ones. It was, however nice to be back within the old bathing halls. I soon left and an hour later scoured the bookshelves of a charity shop. Picking out a book dedicated to fixed pedal riders, I spotted a wonderful ode to a pair of beaten up ASICS. Its outsole had been smeared through months of functioning as an impromptu break. Look at the trainers of fixed gear enthusiasts and they will likely tell the same story.
Picking up a case study guide to the Bend It Like Beckham movie, I hoped to find more behind-the-scenes photos of the film. Predators, adidas Superstars – often highlighted by IG mood board accounts, the book could deliver on never-before-seen images. Alas, the book left much to be desired. Snapping up a photo of a young Kira Knightly sporting Predator boots was the best the book had to offer, leaving it tucked between a collection of old ‘80s Rock magazines once more.
Walking around the centre, I had spotted a seriously quirky set of door handles to a hotel. Silver Boots for door handles could just be the first addition to my future house. I am relatively certain my future wife would approve, let alone allow such a feature on our front door. I’ll have to settle on them being used for the lounge, or failing that a cupboard full of shoes. I think the idea sounds a lot better as just that, an idea.
I think the main concern would be finding a wife first. Maybe I’ll endorse the silver boots as a fallback plan. A symbol of self-defeat. A sign that I have signed up to the idea of life as a single man for the remainder or my days on earth. They were kind of hideous in hindsight. But cool too! Hideously cool? Anyway enough about myself…
Picking up a copy of the Nike x Phaidon Look Good, Feel Good, Play Good in Unitom was how I found out that a fellow stockroom alumni was a published photographer. Featuring in one of his books that detailed a number of Japanese of women captured via polaroid. Among the scantily clad ladies I spotted an interesting photo of a pair of OG Neon 95s. As an actual icon of footwear design, the 110 has been shot countless times. Yet this was the first time I had spotted the shoe paired with a pink vibrator. I suppose it goes back to the old saying – if it can exist, it probably does.
On the walk back from town, it suddenly hit me how much rubbish was dotted about the streets of south Manchester. I’m unsure if I had become conditioned to it during my time living in the city, but during this visit I could not help but notice it everywhere. This did work to my advantage, providing me with two more pairs of abandoned shoes to bring up a total of three during my long Sunday walk.
Making my way to the area of Ancoats I noticed a pair of black and white Adilette’s hiding in a bramble bush. How or why they were there is anyone’s guess. Being a fan of the Atlanta-based legend Future, my mind instantly drifted back to a classic post in The Basement post where a girl burnt her boyfriend’s Gucci Flip Flops.
Granted this version isn’t as cool, but throwing away your ex-lover’s Adilettes is a power move. Think of the amount of time he spent in them in his flat aka his safe space, to then brutally designate them to a life in a lonely Ancoats bramble bush. God giveth and God taketh away. Revenge is a dish best served cold as they say. Oh, he cheated on her in this hypothetical example if that wasn’t already clear.
As I was trying to get a clear photo, a wonderful example of the hip Ancoats couple walked past. Hearing one of them chuckle at what was likely me photographing a littered bush, I couldn’t help but wish them a similar fate. I hope he doesn’t get too comfortable with his flip flops. I am acutely aware that I was playing out another cliché of the Ancoats creative don’t worry. Although I question how many of those said creatives have stopped to admire this bush (pause).
Further on, I identified some black boots strewn away by a set of typically red brick flats. Being on the other side of a black metal fence and just having walked past two questionable characters, I did not dedicate much effort trying to pap them. Conscious that I was giving off ‘fed behaviour’ by photographing a possible trap house or worse, a murder site, I swiftly moved on.
The following day I headed away from the city centre and into the suburbs of Didsbury. Spending a large portion of time in The Art Of Tea book shop, I came away with a great set of images.
Mostly from a Women’s Bodybuilding book from the ‘70s, the pages full of images of Laura Combes training. Now while her physique was a testament to her relentless work at the church of iron, that was not the focal point of my interest. Laced up on her feet was what looked like a New Balance 730, a shoe I had recently purchased myself.
Worn by Andy Warhol, it is a testament to the NB 730s utilitarian design, favoured by the athlete and artist. One thing about ‘tennis shoes’ during that era was that wearing them outside the realm of sport was a new concept. Seldom had they been comfortable or cool enough, since the ‘60s saw the introduction of the Chuck and finally a move away from the minimal design of the Plimsole. Seeing real use cases such as on the feet of Bodybuilding icon Laura Combes is exactly what I live for. It is another reason why accounts such as @Trainerspotting has blown up over the years. Granted, the account often focuses on celebrities, but people still love seeing the shoes worn in real-life contexts. In the ’60s and ‘70s people bought these new models because they thought one thing, ‘those look cool’.
There are only two photos which feature Combes wearing another shoe in this bodybuilding guide, the Nike Wimbledons or Court edition (Blazer perhaps). A fat retro Swoosh across the sidewall, a toe tip and bar laces scream out the ‘70s. Not to mention the shot of her getting in some behind-the-head lat pulldowns, just more proof that her upper back would have been uncontestably shredded under the lights.
That sporting or bodily health section provided ample insights into the world of women’s fitness during that 70s and 80s era. Books that would have been swept up by Sporty & Rich founder Emily Oberg had she been the one digging. I grabbed a photo of this lady focusing on her calf raises, yet the shoe brand evades me – likely a domestic company that had a solid share of the fitness market but has since been liquidated.
In another fashion section I picked up a gentleman’s fashion book from the ‘90s. An era which had men becoming increasingly aware of what clothes to wear. One image stood out from a mile away, showcasing a then-newly released Air Max 97 “Silver Bullets”.
Under the acceptable “Casual Friday” fit, the book reads “If the boss lopes around in Nikes, you probably can too, if not, go with brown leather. If you’re the boss, wear what you damn please.” Ahhh the era of strict office attire, one I fortunately have no experience in. If you catch me sitting at a cubicle under some cold light from 9-5, you have permission to “shake me out of it” using whatever method required (bar the use of murder or dismemberment). For now, I’ll stick to writing about shoes.
Currently I sit on the train home. Sun flickering across my face as I write this. It is 17:00 and the sun is setting, life is alright.
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).
Here’s a cute photo of a dog for making it to the end
wear shoes, write poems 