Shoeulogy

Nothing lasts forever, and it’s important to remind yourself everything on this planet is temporary. We all experience decay but at varying rates. Rocks are weathered over millennia; some plastics degrade over decades, and my shoes lasted 1,948 days, but their time has come.

Shoes have a soul. They travel with you everywhere you go, and connect you to the earth. They were my skips, a trainer you obligingly wear for the hard yards with little to no regard for their wellbeing. Durability is everything, and my Adidas Matchcourt’s surpassed all expectations.

Initially, I was sceptical. I’d never owned a pair of knitted shoes and wasn’t sure if they’d suit me. Furthermore, I stubbornly refused to tie the laces for their first week of wear, a catastrophic mistake. They tore my heels to shreds. Eventually, I resisted and tied the knot; we became one. Their stiff double knot was a ring I’d never remove. Instead, those laces were regularly bypassed, their mailable structure elongated and contorted into any shape that’d allow me to slip them on.

Eventually, I trusted my shoes enough to take them on a night out. This is warfare for footwear. Sticky dancefloors and spilt drinks can tarnish even well-designed kicks beyond recognition. The following morning, I presumed they’d fallen foul as I looked across my room and noticed their black and white knitted mesh was stained brown by a substantial Coke spillage.

Nevertheless, they were my skips, no problem. In my mind, they were designed to get dirty. Even so, I thought I’d try and give them a clean, and much to my surprise, the marks wiped straight off. From that point on, we had a mutual trust. As with all great relationships, we looked after one another. I knew my shoes could be relied upon when it mattered most, and if conditions got the better of them, I’d ensure they were restored.

When their first tear developed, my restoration capabilities were tested. For the first time, my shoes needed me more than I needed them. I could have replaced them, moved on and thought, thank you for the memories. Instead, I applied superglue, loaded them into my stepdad’s vice and prayed the pressure would salvage the situation.

The sole and the knit were whole once more. My stepdad, skilled in restoring cars and farm machinery, let out a wry smile when I appeared overjoyed with my handiwork. To be truthful, I had good reason to keep them. My favourite socks, a pale pink pair with a checkerboard loop around the ankle underlining the word irregular, were a delightful combination with my Adidas’ and the foundation of many beloved outfits.

Ultimately, though, my shoes were living on borrowed time. Although swapping the sock liner for a fresh set gave renewed comfort, more holes gradually began to form, and I wasn’t going to be able to plug this dam permanently.

I persisted with them, though, carefully selecting their outings; sadly, rainy days became unsuitable conditions. I say sadly because it rains a lot in Swansea. Not only is the precipitation frequent, it’s often unrelenting, and being caught in a downpour can leave your socks sodden for the duration of the day.

Gradually, my skips had become unsuitable for their environment. Despite my grievances, it was time to move on.

Their replacements, a water-resistant set of Puma Slipstreams, arrived last week and are specialised to suit their purpose. Although, reflecting upon retiring my Adidas’ reminded me, nothing is everlasting, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t attempt to preserve what is precious.