Something to Wear 

I used to own a pair of converse. They were black, brogue shape and covered in glitter. Guaranteed compliments, guaranteed confidence.

I would put them on last, usually with my 60’s style shift dress and, on top my black corduroy jacket. I would then spritz a bit of perfume (some of mum’s expensive stuff if she wasn’t in her room) and walk out the back gate. I’d light a cigarette and walk to the one pub in town where I knew there would be some old school friend, some familiar face, someone. A grungy Weatherspoon’s, Britians favourite.

Black glittering converses contrast the carpet of a grotty down town pub. People used to look at my feet before my face. I preferred it that way.

And really, there was always someone in Weatherspoons I knew and it wouldn’t be long before I was in the smoking garden talking to them about old and new news.

I puffed away, nodding, grinning, trying desperately to match the character of a person who would even think about buying a pair of shoes like I was wearing.

It never worked. I would always go red faced or shy if anyone ever caught me off guard.

If only a pair of shoes really give you the confidence you need to be yourself…

Adverts lie.