I have a very clear memory of when I put a pair of Converse sneakers on for the first time. The shoes were my cousin’s, who is 5 years younger, and it was just that time when our shoe sizes finally evened out. She was so petit, and I, at the age of 16, on the contrary, developed a very womanly body, so borrowing clothes was out of the question. Shoes, however, I borrowed from her with the hostility of an IRS. This was her tax for living in a cool city and having access to things like Converse sneakers.
I put on her white Converse All Star high top to conclude my simple tee and blue jeans outfit. An ensemble so simple, so nondescript, secret agents should make it their uniforms, instead of those infamous camel trench coats with short brim hats, or even more extreme – a James-Bond-esque tux.
However, when I put it all together…I was ecstatic. I wanted to twirl and skip and moonwalk and no one could stop me. I was the shit.
If you are an avid fan of Garance, you probably have heard her own story of hope and heartbreak: when she was a kid growing up in Corsica, she wanted a pair of white Converse sneakers so bad, she asked her aunt to bring her one from Paris, and when her aunt did bring the sneakers back, they were blue, which, of course, left Garance in an absolute anguish.
A perfect pair of Converse is a staple. It’s simple, it is perfectly proportioned, it’s as effortless as Jane Birkin on any given day, it’s sporty but nobody expects you to prove YOU are sporty (to hell with that), it’s cool but doesn’t scream that you’re trying too hard.
I bought my own pair in America (what is more quintessentially American that this pair of shoes?), about three years ago. They are beat up and faded a fair amount, but I’m not planning on replacing them.
Converse sneakers are just a classic, a perfect pair of coolness. Send us your own Converse stories!