Fundamentally, I own 3 pairs of shoes. One is the running shoes I wear everyday - even to the office. Two is the sandals I wear when I can't manage bare feet - outside the office. Three is the formal black things that I wear on those oh-so-rare occasions when a suit is required.
Of course I have boots, but we're Canadians here and talking aboot boots is redundant, eh?
The imminent Euro Tour demands a new pair of shoes that exist in the theoretical rift between running shoes and formal black things. I'm not sure these exist, but I have to believe they do. I believe Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle was based on this theoretical footwear. Or maybe it was Adams' Improbability Drive.
No matter. I needed shoes.
So I've been searching shoe stores for the past few weeks and have been largely unsuccessful. Strike One is that I'm an Average Joe, and stores don't really - you know - exist for us. Strike Two is that my feet aren't wide enough. All the nice shoes are for guys with wide feet. I don't understand why, but I'm secure enough in my manhood that this doesn't bother me too much.
After hours of searching (I'm not kidding) I finally found a pair that worked for me. That's pretty good news in itself. Even cooler is the fact they're Doc Martens. At least I thought this was cool for about 10 minutes.
You see, my perception of Doc Martens was forged in the crucible of Punk many years ago. They were the uniform of young toughs who were all about senseless anger and useless gestures of pointless violence. And they attracted the right kinds of girls back in the day.
But they were beyond my means back when it meant something.
Apparently everyone grew up, and Doc Marten went legit. So my uniform now includes casual dark brown Oxfords with a logo that echoes back to a different era. Just when I thought I'd finally arrived, everyone left.