This piece is very tongue-in-cheek, let’s not take me too seriously, I wear trainers all the time!
Spotting a smug woman in a tailored dress, black tights and white Adidas two stripe trainers first thing in the morning is enough to make me fantasise about my mortality. I beg for my blissful end to come as swiftly as the tube I saw her on.
Now, before you begin to get all hot under the collar, I’m not saying she should be forced to wear heels all day every day, cursing her with bunions so large her middle-aged feet resemble Monster Munch. I’m just saying there are other options.
Maybe the dolly shoe is very 2002 but have you not seen loafers these days? Brogues, even? How about the good ol’ shoe boot? Just as comfortable as the trainer and you won’t look like you’ve been subjected to a make-over by Trinny or Susannah. You’ll still have the ability to walk on the left and if you’re really feeling it, you can still take the stairs.
And then it comes to slipping your slip ons off… The beauty of these shoes (excluding the brogue), is that you don’t even have to bother with any laces. You can swap them for your ‘don’t mess with me heels’ quicker than the time you hid your handbag receipt from your husband because it really was a ‘tenner in the sale.’
To me, trainers are the outfit version of a mullet: it’s business on top, with a big, sweaty weekend party going on at the bottom – not even at the back where, if you were really lucky, you might have been able to miss it or claim you didn’t get the invite.
Who wants to carry ‘sneakers’ around in a handbag all day? You may as well invite the street cleaner to empty his contents into your handbag. That’s probably going to be far more pleasant than the bacteria that’s been swept up in-between those grooves on the bottom of that flipping sports shoe.
So, let’s just say from here on that we aren’t going to do it. Let’s leave the trainers where they belong – in the gym. Be honest with yourself, do you really spend the day pounding the pavement? Or, is most of it spent sat behind a desk, on your bum? If you really must have a pair, I beg you, buy them in black. Saving me from the tracks and you from a hold up on the Northern Line.