I know I’ve touched on this before, but we’re going to touch on this again. I recently saw a friend of mine last week. He is a budding sneakerhead, who, on rare occasion, will put me on to a sneaker release. I am more than glad to talk shop with this person, as he and I have known each other almost 5 years. However, such was not always the case. A long, long, time ago in an apartment complex far, far, away (depending on where you live), he had the unmitigated gall to tell me that if I wasn’t spending so much money on sneakers, I could probably have something like a car. One may find this to be acceptable logic in some instances, but there were a few things wrong with his statement.
First, my man was the beneficiary of a lawyer for a dad and grandparents who have good money. His aforementioned apartment at the time sat less than 2 miles away from the beach, he had a nice luxury sedan (still does), ate and went out all the time, and all without a job. His money was his dad’s and grandparents’ money. He didn’t appreciate the value of the dollar, because it came to him on demand. So someone, please, pray tell how he was in any condition to tell me how to spend money. I work hard for my money, and most of what I own was a purchase from my own wallet. At that time, I had a part-time campus job (as we were both in college), and whatever money I made from that I used for a myriad of things. I had less than 10 pairs of sneakers at the time, and the most expensive pair barely eclipsed $95, which was a lot of money for me at the time. $95 isn’t getting me a car. And let’s do some more math here. Let’s assume that all my shoes were all at $95. Then, as I had less than 10, we will just say I had 10 for simplicity. So : 95 * 10 = $950. Double check the math if you want, but $950 is not buying you a quality car, anywhere. And I had much less than that. I wish back then I had told him to spend his money how he wishes, but it wasn’t even his. It still isn’t.
Let’s move on. There is another guy (Pepperoni Pizza Face Looking Boy) I know from backwater Tennessee, who, at first glance, looks like the epitome of trailer trash. Much like the previously mentioned gentleman before him (and also during the same period of time), he couldn’t understand why I liked to spend my money on shoes. His thinking was that they go on your feet; they don’t matter. But I don’t think anything much mattered to this kid except for drinking liquor and smoking marijuana. An “artist” by trade, my man was no more money then I was, drove a 1998 (at the latest) Honda Civic, wasn’t making a dime off his art he knew he was charging too much for, and never paid people back. Come to think of it, I think he still owes me about $30. Now, for a motherf*cker who also liked to spend money that wasn’t his, how was he in any shape or form to tell me what to spend my money on? In fact, instead of trying to diss me for my love of sneakers, he could’ve (and should’ve) asked me where to find some sneakers because in the small handful of years I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen him wear the same pair of dusty old Vans. He also could’ve asked me where to find a job, because I doubt his stint at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf was working out for him.
Now, I don’t write this to air out grievances or write libel. I do, however, write this to say that as a sneakerhead, you can and just might come across people in your life that may not understand why you like sneakers, and why you continue to spend multiple amounts of money on them. But everyone has something that they’re into and that they love, and who are they to criticize you for yours? What authority do they have to say or think less of your love for sneakers? And unless they’re making exponentially more cash money than you, how can they talk foul about you spending money on sneakers? They probably spend good money on something they’re interested in. In this day and age, chances are they do. It might not be sneakers, but it is something. Hell, it might not even be their money, either. In closing, AT&T said it best: everyone has a thing. Sneakers are mine.