A book i am reading referred to where i grew up as the white trash capital of the region. Oddly enough this got me thinking about shoes. How my mind gets from white trash to shoes is not as odd as one might think (the process that is, not my mind).
Growing up in that particular area as a young skateboarder in the 80's and early 90's was not boring. You frequently would find yourself the subject of jock "performance art". A very interactive form of theater, it usually began verbally but physical "improve" could easily be thrown into the mix.
The older you got the more 'advanced' the performances got. Unity and creativity, the hallmarks of the skate scene of the time, led to solutions in avoiding such performances. A lesson which has proven useful to this day is that if you look like you are more trouble than it's worth to interact with, most people will leave you alone. Through a series of progressive looks our skate community found ways to earn ourselves at least a little breathing room.
Phase one, freshman year, was a re-invention of the tough look of some of the LA skaters seen in skate magazines. There was a gang inspired west coast look of flannels worn with just the top button buttoned. We gave this our own spin, wearing long sleeve paisley shirts flapping open with just the top button done up. It showed unity and people you may not have hung out with but still skated could more easily recognize one another and would stick up for one another. With the guidance of the upperclassman we began to stand together and it helped for a little while.
As the mere show of unity it had a limit to its effect and when the upperclassmen graduated we ended up stepping up the offensive. Taking a cue from some of the hip-hop looks of the day we incorporated Starter jackets into our own skate looks. The size of the jackets allowed us to level the playing field as bullies usually came in larger numbers when they'd see us alone. With the loose fit and plethora of pockets it was easy to tuck away duct tapped up rolls of quarters, metal cylinders cut to fist size and liberated from shop classes, and the length helped hide the multi-use chain wallet.
Chain wallets were great. While skating they kept our wallets tethered to you so we wouldn't lose them. In a fight you can clip off the chain and get creative. This part of the look made it into our next evolution.
In time our skate-punk look lost many of the aspects of the skate and started to go all out punk. The mystery of what may lie under the over-sized coat gave way to telegraphing exactly what you are going to get, a look heavily influenced by the English working class and east-coast hardcore. Many heads got shaved. Flight jackets from Army/Navy stores, suspenders (braces) worn but not typically on the shoulder rather instead dropped down, and the coupe de gras: boots. Old army boots or black work boots were sometimes worn but the footwear of choice was Doc Martens.
These boots were not available anywhere remotely near where i lived. They were still made in England at the time (since production has gone to China and the quality got lost on the way there). Every once in a while if you hit it just right a shipment might have made it to one of the shoe stores in Harvard Square. Very rarely, but occasionally, this bit of luck would find someone in the Boston area at the opportune time. If you found a pair anywhere near your size you scoped them up. This often meant that if you saw someone with a pair on there was a strong likelihood that either their toes were cramped up inside them or that they were wearing a few pairs of socks to get them to fit.
This does not even account for the high price tag of these said boots. If you found a pair, however, you also found a way to get them. This may be lost on this new generation of iPods and cellphones but after buying your first skate set-up (having to buy everything all at once) paying over $100 for boots was the biggest investment we ever made in our young lives. Piggy banks were broken, jobs were gotten, loans were taken, siblings were sold. Again, random happenstance near Boston was the lucky way. The second way was more difficult.
The other primary option was mail order from England. There were lots of problems with this. First, many people got lost in the sizing translation. Some just ordered their US size which is quite different than it's English counterpart. This again was before the age of the internet where you can easily look up ANYTHING, including size conversions. After a few kids fell victim to this mistake the Rosetta Stone of size conversion was passed around. This led to the second problem.
A size 10 in Converse All Stars was not the same as size 10 Vans. Just because yo fit into size 10 Air Jordan's didn't mean size 10 Airwalks would work for you. Doc's seemed to have developed a liberal interpretation of the British size standards. The orders were made to England and as expected: more cramped toes or layered socks. This however, meant that a wider variety of colors and styles made it into the local scene.
These sizing problems do not address the largest obstacle: how does a kid with no checking account or credit card get something ordered from England? A parent or other sympathetic adult was needed. Trying to explain why you needed boots that cost over $100 was tough enough but then explaining why the ones at the local shoe store were not good enough was another thing all together. Very few boots were gotten this way.
Option number three: right place, right time, right foot. Every so often the discomfort of the wrong size would overcome the proud wearer and they would finally have enough. This was the cheapest way to get into a pair of Doc's: used goods. A friend of mine couldn't squeeze into the - only in the scene - green doc's he had ordered. Much like Cinderella those glass slippers fit me JUST RIGHT. i don't think i took them off until 3 years later when i completely melted through the sole at a campfire. Oh how proudly i bounced on those bouncing souls.
i miss wearing those old friends and i've never been able to throw them away. They sit next to my new(er) vegetarian boots constructed at one of the old doc plants that made the boots before production went to China. Maybe, just maybe, both pair were made at the same factory.
In peaceful environments i am extremely peaceful and in aggressive environments i get very aggressive. Am i a product of my environment? My genes? My upbringing? When does standing up for yourself become part of your personality?
Maybe it's all just about shoes... which you choose, who judges you, and how, based on that footwear. Comfort or white trash protection?
Growing up in that particular area as a young skateboarder in the 80's and early 90's was not boring. You frequently would find yourself the subject of jock "performance art". A very interactive form of theater, it usually began verbally but physical "improve" could easily be thrown into the mix.
The older you got the more 'advanced' the performances got. Unity and creativity, the hallmarks of the skate scene of the time, led to solutions in avoiding such performances. A lesson which has proven useful to this day is that if you look like you are more trouble than it's worth to interact with, most people will leave you alone. Through a series of progressive looks our skate community found ways to earn ourselves at least a little breathing room.
Phase one, freshman year, was a re-invention of the tough look of some of the LA skaters seen in skate magazines. There was a gang inspired west coast look of flannels worn with just the top button buttoned. We gave this our own spin, wearing long sleeve paisley shirts flapping open with just the top button done up. It showed unity and people you may not have hung out with but still skated could more easily recognize one another and would stick up for one another. With the guidance of the upperclassman we began to stand together and it helped for a little while.
As the mere show of unity it had a limit to its effect and when the upperclassmen graduated we ended up stepping up the offensive. Taking a cue from some of the hip-hop looks of the day we incorporated Starter jackets into our own skate looks. The size of the jackets allowed us to level the playing field as bullies usually came in larger numbers when they'd see us alone. With the loose fit and plethora of pockets it was easy to tuck away duct tapped up rolls of quarters, metal cylinders cut to fist size and liberated from shop classes, and the length helped hide the multi-use chain wallet.
Chain wallets were great. While skating they kept our wallets tethered to you so we wouldn't lose them. In a fight you can clip off the chain and get creative. This part of the look made it into our next evolution.
In time our skate-punk look lost many of the aspects of the skate and started to go all out punk. The mystery of what may lie under the over-sized coat gave way to telegraphing exactly what you are going to get, a look heavily influenced by the English working class and east-coast hardcore. Many heads got shaved. Flight jackets from Army/Navy stores, suspenders (braces) worn but not typically on the shoulder rather instead dropped down, and the coupe de gras: boots. Old army boots or black work boots were sometimes worn but the footwear of choice was Doc Martens.
These boots were not available anywhere remotely near where i lived. They were still made in England at the time (since production has gone to China and the quality got lost on the way there). Every once in a while if you hit it just right a shipment might have made it to one of the shoe stores in Harvard Square. Very rarely, but occasionally, this bit of luck would find someone in the Boston area at the opportune time. If you found a pair anywhere near your size you scoped them up. This often meant that if you saw someone with a pair on there was a strong likelihood that either their toes were cramped up inside them or that they were wearing a few pairs of socks to get them to fit.
This does not even account for the high price tag of these said boots. If you found a pair, however, you also found a way to get them. This may be lost on this new generation of iPods and cellphones but after buying your first skate set-up (having to buy everything all at once) paying over $100 for boots was the biggest investment we ever made in our young lives. Piggy banks were broken, jobs were gotten, loans were taken, siblings were sold. Again, random happenstance near Boston was the lucky way. The second way was more difficult.
The other primary option was mail order from England. There were lots of problems with this. First, many people got lost in the sizing translation. Some just ordered their US size which is quite different than it's English counterpart. This again was before the age of the internet where you can easily look up ANYTHING, including size conversions. After a few kids fell victim to this mistake the Rosetta Stone of size conversion was passed around. This led to the second problem.
A size 10 in Converse All Stars was not the same as size 10 Vans. Just because yo fit into size 10 Air Jordan's didn't mean size 10 Airwalks would work for you. Doc's seemed to have developed a liberal interpretation of the British size standards. The orders were made to England and as expected: more cramped toes or layered socks. This however, meant that a wider variety of colors and styles made it into the local scene.
These sizing problems do not address the largest obstacle: how does a kid with no checking account or credit card get something ordered from England? A parent or other sympathetic adult was needed. Trying to explain why you needed boots that cost over $100 was tough enough but then explaining why the ones at the local shoe store were not good enough was another thing all together. Very few boots were gotten this way.
Option number three: right place, right time, right foot. Every so often the discomfort of the wrong size would overcome the proud wearer and they would finally have enough. This was the cheapest way to get into a pair of Doc's: used goods. A friend of mine couldn't squeeze into the - only in the scene - green doc's he had ordered. Much like Cinderella those glass slippers fit me JUST RIGHT. i don't think i took them off until 3 years later when i completely melted through the sole at a campfire. Oh how proudly i bounced on those bouncing souls.
i miss wearing those old friends and i've never been able to throw them away. They sit next to my new(er) vegetarian boots constructed at one of the old doc plants that made the boots before production went to China. Maybe, just maybe, both pair were made at the same factory.
In peaceful environments i am extremely peaceful and in aggressive environments i get very aggressive. Am i a product of my environment? My genes? My upbringing? When does standing up for yourself become part of your personality?
Maybe it's all just about shoes... which you choose, who judges you, and how, based on that footwear. Comfort or white trash protection?
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