This is the journey to cool:
Growing up we had nothing but the roof over our heads. There was a time I had nothing. No one. (Those who know me know the time I speak of, but the rest of you will have to wait on the memoir.) My mom wouldn’t buy us anything. My brother used to boost cars to stay fly. I just boosted the clothes themselves. I got my first job when I was 13 (I think).
When I was 13, my life changed without my noticing it. All because I starting noticing what I was wearing. You see, I’ve known my best friends since I was 6 years old. When you’re that young, you don’t notice what you have on or what other people are wearing. Then… society ruins you. For a while I ventured off from them. I’m not quite sure why, but I know that there was a difference between us.
Jordans. I couldn’t afford them.
Where I’m from, time is punctuated with sneaker releases. There’s pairs I never had because they came out before I could afford them. When we talk about the fashions we went through, I can’t input on some of those things. Luckily, I had an older brother who bought me my first pair of 16s
in all black. Yup. That was my first pair. My big brother put me on the track & I’ve only veered off to make my own way. Never to go back. I’ll admit, I now
have a huge ego, but I didn’t always. & I’m not self-absorbed. I didn’t have things the other kids had. The one thing I had while they didn’t? A job.
I started getting paychecks. I would work my 40 hours and BALL OUT: Sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers, sneakers, sneakers,sneakers, sneakers. I remember I spent $135 on the green and white 10s
and bought a the thin PS2 for my boyfriend the same day. I was like… 17 maybe. IDK where I got the money… actually… I do. lol.
I bought sneakers for me, my moms, my boyfriend. Mannnn, I’m tellin’ you.
All I wanted was to get the boxes to pile up from the floor in closet to the ceiling. The more stacks you have, the cooler you are. Trust me, it’s the way these kids work. I don’t know where we learn this, but it’s a rule. I had so many pairs of sneakers that when I went off the college, I had to send a box full of shoes to meet me there. That box was size of me.
Then the journey through cool:
Recently, my friend and I had a conversation about how girls do their best to look good in the club, and then be “bummy bitches in flip flops” the rest of the week. (Her words lol.) I used to care. I used to want sneakers. Every color. Every combination. Now, I am a bitch in flip-flops. But I’m not quite bummy. I’m not walking around in those $5 Old Navy joints… my ALDO Manjarezz flip flops
cost me $45 (…well, I was working there so I got a discount, but I spent $$$ that day.) Thing is, I can’t wear Jordans to work. Ever. I really can’t wear Jordans ever. Period. No offense to people who do, but it’s not practical for me, personally.
I once critiqued my other friend who wanted to stop wearing sneakers because her boyfriend told her to. I wasn’t really judging her choice, I just don’t think someone else should ever tell you what to wear. Especially if they’re not providing an entire new wardrobe. (That’s called being the “face of” something and that requires a sponsor.) Besides, the shit I wear now cost the same amount and, if not, double. If you could see the tags on my clooothhhhheess mmaaaaaannnn. You might not be able to properly pronounce some of this stuff. ha! & Oh… &yes, you will catch me at thrift stores scavenging for labels because… I know what to look for.
The people I’m out to impress now don’t wear sneakers unless their working out (and they do work out). “These are Prada, but like… last season,” said my boss when complimented on her pumps. I work with people who have Louis Vuitton fashion show invites laying on their desks and wear Burberry button-ups under Lacoste cardigans. I stood next to Katie Holmes and (while I didn’t shine, obviously) I also didn’t look like I didn’t belong. I got looked up and down by Kerry Washington and got a smile in return (that made my year). Honestly, I don’t want to be cool every again.
Eff the Jones’s. I’d rather keep up with the Smith’s.
So when I speak on the money I’m spending and the things I’m buying, (for example in my “Praise is Due to the Most Fly: Prada”
post) forgive me. But… I’m full of confidence and dollar signs. My cup might overrun-neth.
I have a sort of… Kanyistic view of life:
If that’s cool. My shit’s hot.
If that’s fresh…. I’m so spoiled it’s appalling.
&.. please, stay fly. Now, I can run the earth without interference.