Monday, 13 October / Nikes

I could resist the force no longer. It was time to surrender to the comfort and convenience. The stylish yet practical(?) choice. The shoe that looks so god damn fabulous on every other person so could look decent on myself. Yep, the trainer. Note: 'Trainer' perhaps an inappropriate title as no gymming or exercise will be taking place. I'm by far the last one on the bandwagon (my mum, still rocking the Aesics, will argue that she was the inventor of the trend) but I can't help bragging about my recent entry to the world of trainers for casual wear: scandal. 

The patent croc leather ticks (I KNOW) inject just enough 'me' to look somewhat effortless propped on my feet. In my new world of trainer wearing, punctuality is second nature, comfortable is a familiar term and cold-Birkenstock-toes are a thing of the past. I'm bouncing through the streets (in a manner that ironically dissolves any attempted coolness the shoes may have provided) and actually look forward to the long trek to uni in the morning. Oh and should a spontaneous dancing flash mob break out in the city centre... I'll be the first to get away.