I’ve bought four pairs of black Nike sneakers over the years.
That makes it sound as if I love them, and I do quite like them although it’s been a relationship of diminishing returns for me. The reason I’ve had to keep buying them is because I keep buying the wrong size, but also because I have three daughters.
The first pair I bought was on a family holiday in the Balkans many years ago. We’d been horribly been taken by surprise by the coldness of spring in April over there, and had had to stock up on a whole lot of winter gear, including sneakers instead of all the sandals I’d bought. Of course I knew what size I wore (38), but was tricked by some bizarre sizing thing that Nike has going on, and it rapidly became clear that they were too small for comfort, and as such they were soon appropriated by one of my offspring (they all have smaller feet than me). I’d quite liked them, though, and the next time I was overseas – Paris if my memory serves me correctly (God I miss overseas travel!) – I bought a replacement pair. They were slightly bulkier and less attractive or comfortable, but surely 39 was more my size. However, at the end of that holiday I figured that they weren’t quite right after all, and they went to another daughter, who was grateful for a pair of sneakers for Dunedin.
It was more sensible to then buy a pair closer to home – not to mention the global pandemic that was severely limiting my travel options. The next pair I bought were on Lambton Quay, just a few hundred metres from my house. The soles were a bit bulkier than I liked, and the only style I liked had light grey soles rather than grey, but the whoosh came in a nice gold so I got them anyway. Size 40 were certainly a much better fit than the smaller sizes, although in fact my big toe did press up against the end rather disconcertingly…
In recent weeks I’ve found my shoes lying around the house in odd places, and then I saw them a couple of times on my oldest daughters feet “I bought some new shoes especially for work but I kept slipping everywhere when it rained, and you never seem to wear yours…” This was undeniably true, and after the great puppy debacle I was somewhat in her debt, so I magnanimously offered to give up these shoes and replace them with a new pair for myself. Back to Lambton Quay I went. They seemed to have an enormous range, but my heart sank when I took a closer look. What is it with these enormous soles? Comfortable enough but they look so stupid! Once again I couldn’t find any with white soles that didn’t look super dumb so I’ve bought a pair with dark grey soles. They didn’t have that version in my size except in the men’s version of the shoe. Why are black sneakers gendered? Well, they are comfortable enough, and in size 41 I think I am finally in the right sized shoe, but they are very unattractive, which defeats the purpose somewhat, because otherwise why not wear some of my running shoes which are very comfortable although rather lurid in the colour department.
I don’t know, Nike – what the hell is this?? And just why??
All in all, a depressing journey on the shoe front.