I Hate These Shoes, I Wear Them Everyday

If you’ve been out in public any time over the past few months, you’ve inevitably seen swaths of people in the same type of brownish-greyish bulbous slip-on boot. This style of Chelsea boot, the most popular being Blundstones, is a pervasive eyesore that has somehow become the staple boot to just about anyone. 

I was never a fan of Chelsea’s in general - their side webbing and lack of laces always rubbed me the wrong way - but I’d see them occasionally worn with the right fit and to some extent I would “get it.” Soon, though, the slim Chelsea, usually in some kind of faux-suede, became the go-to footwear for the man in the Zara overcoat and the too-groomed beard trying to get you to come to the club night he’s promoting. At that point, I believed their reputation was suitably tarnished and expected they would slowly fade from popularity and leave me alone. This was clearly not the case.

I saw my first Blundstones a few Christmases ago, when a family member excitedly unwrapped her new pair. She marveled at the comfort, at how easy they were to put on - “Perfect for taking the dog out!” I couldn’t get over the amorphous shape, the rounded toe, and just the apparent overall lack of structure. It was a boot reduced to its most basic components in the worst way. I tried to chalk it up to function over form and didn’t really give it much thought, until this style of boot became somewhat ubiquitous - “stylish” even.

I was of the opinion that if you wanted something sleek and somewhat dressy, harken back to the #menswear days and find some Allen Edmonds-esque leather boot, or something from Danner if you’re a true urban mountaineer. If actual ruggedness was required, get a real pair of hiking boots, or some Sorels if snow is an issue. I held fast to this until one day this winter, when it was somewhat snowy but not too bad - a kind of bleary, wet day. I decided that I didn’t feel like putting on thick socks and lacing up my Vasques just to trod through a bit of slush, but sneakers wouldn’t quite do. I was giving in and, in a vain attempt to reclaim some measure of individuality by way of a small yellow thread, I walked into a Dr. Marten’s shop.

I bought a pair. The saleswoman remarked that she liked them because they were slimmer than the Blundstones everyone else was wearing. They’re not. They looked bad with the pants I was wearing. They looked kind of bad in general. However, they did slide on easily, and they were comfortable. I walked out that day with a pair of boots that were, above all else, convenient.

In my mind, that right there is the base of the problem. Convenience is in many ways the antithesis of style. I’ve worn them all the time since then, and for what they are I give rave reviews. I can slide them on to take the dog out, when I need to grab something from the garage, or simply when I’m in a hurry. However, I concede that I look like shit. I’m not saying that it’s necessary to “suffer for fashion”, but I do believe that looking good requires some kind of effort or sacrifice. Whether it be something that’s a bit uncomfortable, or a piece that requires some thought about what kind of outfit it works with, there should be some effort to ensure one does not fall into the trap of “just throwing something on.” If looking good was easy, we’d all do it. Saint Laurent heroin chic requires a drug addiction, body dysmorphia, or ideally both. On the other end of the spectrum, the more current oversized, relaxed vibes can be worn by overweight people like myself, but tread a thin line such that if the cut or materials aren’t quite right you end up looking like 90’s JNCO skate team reject.

You might contend that there are plenty of brands that balance convenience with style. The ever-popular Cape-Cod-grocery-run-core of Patagonia and L.L. Bean combines WASP-y nonchalance with the practicality of having enough pockets to carry 7 Cliff bars to your bouldering session. But even then, I would say that there are enough bricks in said brands’ collections that if you aren’t careful with what you pack in your Boat & Tote, you’ll end up on the wrong side of granola-dad.

I know this sounds like mindless ranting (what else is new on JTTB blog dot com), but I implore you to take note of the distinction here. There is a thin line that stands between 4-way stretch psuedo-biz-cas pants, wool sneakers, “technical” t-shirts, and real clothes. Don’t look like you’re on the way to mandatory Friday drinks at your tech start-up that’s “disrupting” the medical industry by letting you book dentist appointments on your phone. Put some thought into what you’re putting on. Try wearing something challenging. 

Hypocritically, I sit here wearing my shitty boots, my shitty Lululemon stretchy pants, thankfully not the techbro wool sneakers. It may be too late for me, but I’m pleading with the rest of you: be better than convenient.