It’s almost September, which we all know means school shoes.
Not breaking up with your partner after they fall ill doesn’t make you a hero
Or rather, having a screaming row with your mum in your local Clarks because she doesn’t understand you, or how important this is, and she wants you to be a massive loser who has no friends because she’s jealous of you for being young.
Also these are all shoes for girls because I went to all girl school and am a girl.
Pods or Kickers
You are the sh*t, aren’t you? You’ve got a the sickest school bag (Jane Norman/ Cath Kidson/ Longchamp depending on your school). You’ve probably got thick striped blond high lights, really sheer tights and your mum let you get your skirt taken up so you don’t even have to roll it.
If this school were an American film, you’d be sitting at a table in the middle of the cafeteria feeling pleased with yourself and probably have a secret handshake with your friends.
There’s a rumour that you gave the head of sixth form a hand job, or that you lost your virginity in year eight. Neither of them are true, but you’re not mad about it.
Sensible lace ups
Oh you. You’re such a sweet child. You don’t argue with your mum in Clarks, in fact you’re so responsible that she probably just gave you some money and trusted to go into town and choose them yourself.
They’ve got good arch support, a padded ankle fitting and sturdy laces. They’ll be great for your posture and terrible for your rep. If you thought this year might finally be the year that someone asks you to hang out in the park after school, you’re wrong. But it’s not the end of the world. You’ve got Guides, voluntary tutoring and reading to your Gran to keep you busy.
You briefly wonder whether this might the year to experiment with something a little more avant garde, but think better of it. They don’t give you blisters during your long walk to after school orchestra.
Years later you’ve still got killer orthopedic health.
No-one is quite sure if you’re in their class or not because turning up is not a strong quality of yours. You’re more into standing around in the nearest park, burning stuff, kicking things, tangling up the chains on the swings. All the classic rock and roll behaviour that make you super edgy and cool.
There are two types of trainer people, the ones who like them to be as bashed up as possible and deliberately dragged them along tarmac for vintage look, and the kind who carry a packet of baby wipes in their back just in case a tiny spot of puddle water gets on them.
Trainers weren’t uniformm, but teachers couldn’t be bothered to tell you off for wearing them because they were so grateful that you bestowed your presence upon them.
If someone had tried to design a shoe to give you back problems, these would be them. They’re literally wafer thin, with no support at all. Having any kind of heel on the shoe would ruin the vibe. They’re also deeply unwaterproof, so you often spend the day squelching around with wet feet.
You spend your weekends wandering around the Topshop in Oxford Circus because you’ve heard that’s where people get scouted to be models. As soon as you finish school you’re one hundred percent moving to London to go to drama school or maybe be in a band.
School is just too small for you, and way too boring. You went to Paris with your parents on a cheapy Eurostar deal last year and it’s really changed the way that you see the world around you. You learned a lot.
You smoke at the weekends even though you can’t stand the taste and last week you got detention for refusing to take off your liquid eye liner. You wear your uniform jumper with the sleeves pulled down and you’ve made a hole for your thumb. You use a baby voice when you feel under attack.
How many hours of Saturday work did you have to do to afford all that eye liner?
You’re different. We get that. You’re not like other people, even though you dress a lot like them. We wouldn’t make that point, because you look like you might be able to fashion a shank from raw materials.
Teachers are afraid of you and your parents have to bribe you with cold hard cash to skip the MCR hoodie at family gatherings. These were the only acceptable school shoes that you would consider wearing and your Mum couldn’t face the argument, so she bought them for you. If you’re totally honest, they’ve given you killer blisters, but other more committed Emo’s who’ve been wearing Docs for longer claim that’s normal.
These days you work in HR or Marketing and you’ve tried quite hard to destroy all the photos taken of you between the ages of 13 and 16.
The Doc Martens which, as we all know, will be left to share the earth with the cockroaches after the nuclear war, are still in the back of a cupboard at your parents house.