Change Your Shoes, Change Your Life

I just got out of a very long, very important, and very committed relationship with my sneakers. They came into my life unexpectedly, as part of the shipment of clothing that I’d put in storage when we left New York during Covid. They were still in their original box, I’d gotten them as part of a press mailing months before Covid hit, my daughter was born, and we left New York, and our love affair was, I suppose, a slow burn.

When I unboxed them in 2021 in Los Angeles, I thought it was handy I’d gotten a brand new pair of sneakers to walk in, and do little else in. But then, when I put them on, oh man. It was magic. They were the missing puzzle piece to so many outfits. They gave my entire vibe a very subtle but powerful nudge in a new direction. Something unlocked in my imagination when I put them on, and I knew they were going to be important.

I loved the grey color, I loved how classic they look. I loved that they didn’t have a big logo on the side, just the lower case name brand. They gave everything I wore a grounded, down to earth, American Dad feeling that feels very comfortable and correct to me. They were a real missing piece for me, and I wore them A LOT.

I wore them to market appointments in Paris, to fashion shows, to meetings, to dinners, I wore them on 20k step walks, on hikes, chasing my kids on scooters, I wore them in LA, in Austin, in New York, Chicago, and Corsica. I wore them into the ground, in near constant rotation, forever laced and ready by the front door for me to shove my foot into and dart out the door like two faithful hounds.

In early July, I shoved them on and headed out the door on a trip with my family, and as I walked through the airport I realized…the smushyness was gone from the sole. They looked tired, like they needed a break. They no longer gave me the low-key polish I felt when I first put them on. I’d never felt inappropriate or embarrassed by them before and now it seemed like it was probably time to call it a day with them.

They were a part of me, by treasured partners on some of my most fun adventures. My co-pilot for a few of the best, hardest, most meaningful years of my life. They kept me grounded! Kept me comfortable! They were a security blanket that also happened to alter my personal style and shift my identity. They were important.

I’m not a sneaker girl by nature, I don’t collect sneakers, I usually have just one pair (right now I have two because I also wear my Dries snakeskin ones but those are a totally different thing), and these were MY PAIR. Unfortunately, they were also a very special limited edition design, and if I wanted to replace them with an identical pair, I’d be out about $700.

So then I thought, if this pair rocked my world so thoroughly, maybe it’s time to find a new pair? Maybe there’s another shoe out there that can spark something in me? I felt ready to be INSPIRED. And so I went looking.

I looked at Nike, I looked at Adidas. I looked at old photos of Phoebe Philo wearing Stan Smiths and tried to get back into the Stan Smith frame of mind, one I was deeply steeped in in 2014.

I am definitely not a Sambas girl, and definitely not now. But I wanted a pair of leopard Wales Bonner Sambas, I just couldn’t find them for a price that didn’t feel criminal, and I missed out when they first came out. I dreamed of all the people I could be in my new sneakers—what my new uniform would be and what adventures we’d go on together. What storms we’d weather. I thought and searched and agonized and decided on these white Reeboks.

I love this shoe—it has the same old-school familiarity as my New Balances, but the white felt fresh and correct, and I was more excited for them to arrive than I’ve been for any purchase in a long time.

But then I got them! And man, it felt so wrong. SO WRONG. I love them, but I guess just not on me. I was waiting for magic, and I suppose that’s the thing about magic—it comes on its own schedule. I felt like I was being unfaithful, not to my old shoes, but to myself. I was pursuing something that felt inauthentic and unnatural for the sake of change and novelty, and that really never works.

So I turned back inward, then I called Emily, then I sent a message to my Substack group chat, and let go of the need to reinvent myself. I actually LIKE myself and like my style. It’s fun to have a fun thing, and I was hoping for a life transformation when I got my new shoes, but in the end—I am who I am, and I’m a grey dad-ass-shoe girl.

So I got these:

And they’re perfect, and I’m happy, and they’re just different enough to give me a little bit of novelty, but basically the same thing. We’re very happy together.

I was very stressed out about choosing new sneakers, it felt like as big of a decision as dying my hair brown! It felt permanent, probably because the first pair sparked such a major change in me. But the lesson is, I wanted something new, until I got it, and then I wanted what I had and realized I like the person I am.

That’s it.

Your friends

Laurel & her New Balances