Just Call Me Sporty Spice
I have been in a bit of a funk lately, and the reason I know this is because yesterday I went online and bought customized Nike sneakers.
I do not care for sneakers or even shoes as a general rule, and my grueling workout schedule (20 minutes on the elliptical machine once every three weeks) certainly did not require this purchase.
I simply felt like spending money. And I was sick of driving to every sports store in the area and looking in vain for a sneaker that came in the colors I wanted, was available in my size, did not look overly bulky, and provided decent arch support.
In the carefree days of my youth, I wore various brands of tennis sneakers, and found them sufficient for getting me from Point A to Point B. Now, though, my trips often involve going from Point A to Point B but then back to A to get something I forgot and then onward to Point B with possibly a detour to Point C and then a trip home via Point D.
This is not only because I am old and forgetful, but also because there are random strangers in the outside world who will invariably piss me off. In order to limit my time with these people, I spend as much time as possible inside my house, where only a stray dog poop can incur the Wrath of Jane. This gradual Howard Hughes-ing of myself requires that I cram all my errands, whether they are conveniently located or not, into one trip.
Due to this extra walking, my feet have decided I can no longer take them for granted. I never cared much for my feet, but for the first time, my feet are making me aware that they do not much care for me, either. A simple trip to the mall now leaves me with tender heels and sore feet, not to mention increasing rage at how difficult it is to park at the mall, and we haven’t even hit the holiday season yet.
And so I decided I needed to buy real sneakers.
During my initial attempts to physically locate a new pair of sneakers, I found out several things.
- I want black and brown sneakers. My current pair are black and brown, and I find that they go well with nearly everything. However, my current pair have as much arch support as the pair of slippers my mother found for me in Chinatown that cost $2.99 and don’t quite fit my feet, because I am a Giant in the Asian world.
- I want arch support.
- I do not want a big bulky running type of shoe, which are the types that usually come with arch support.
- I want Nike. (This was after I had tried on multiple brands and hated all of them, and the only remote possibility was a black Nike with a mint green swoosh. Which I didn’t buy because, mint green swoosh.)
- There is no currently existing sneaker in the world that meets all of my needs.
Since I was unable to find a sneaker I liked, I went online to find out what Nike models were available. Apparently, this is knowledge that Nike does not want you to have. Nike does not seem to keep a catalog of all of its models that were ever made and all of their color choices, which means that the Nikes I see in the stores and on various non-Nike websites are not necessarily shown on Nike’s website and vice versa. Which also means that if I find a particular model I like in an online store, the chances of me being able to locate said model in an actual store to try on and/or buy is very, very slim.
As you might have guessed, I am the kind of person who rarely finds clothes I like, and once I do, I buy the same shirt in various colors and that becomes My New Spring Wardrobe. But unlike clothes, sneakers seem to come in particular models and colors, and you often cannot find a model you want in a color you want.
Clearly, there was nothing I could do other than design my own Nike.
I made several versions of my Nike, flirting briefly with the idea of hot pink laces and “Supa Jane” emblazoned on the backs of the sneakers, before settling on a more conservative look. Black, brown, and a very daring purple swoosh ended up on my final design, and I hit the “submit” button — but only after making sure that the return policy meant I could still get my money back if I had buyer’s remorse.
And if I did have buyer’s remorse, what would Nike do with my customized sneakers? If I had gone with my original design, would there be a saleswoman somewhere, walking around in a town near you, with “Supa Jane” printed on her bargain, outlet-purchased Nikes? She would probably be one of those random strangers who piss me off when I go out into the world.
Posted by: Supersonic Jane | July 30, 2007 | 10:01 pm
Posted in: This Life