Lesser bloggers might just give up. After all, our traffic has diminished from the triple digits (What up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Famous) to the single digits (and probably 25% of that is our Moms. Hi Moms!).
But I have something important to talk about: Weekend Shoes.
Weekend Shoes came into our lives when Carly and I each bought a pair of fake Chucks for our Halloween costumes (we were Harlem Globetrotters. Sadly, only about 12 people saw our costumes, due to a cold and The Fates. I maintain that Halloween is the worst holiday and I have YET TO BE PROVEN WRONG). Real Converse were $30 at Target, so we took our little frugalista selves over to K-Mart and bought reasonable facsimiles for $15. America.
At first, it was a little embarrassing to be wearing fake Chucks. After all, Chucks are meant to be worn by 15 year olds, hipsters, and fashionistas looking to slum it for a day. We are none of those. But we started wearing the shoes to take the pups to Doggy Paradise, and to do laundry, and to run to the grocery store — all weekend activities. Saturday morning would roll around, Carly and I would emerge from our rooms wearing whatever fucked-up outfits we had managed to come up with that day, we’d pull on our Weekend Shoes, and head out to
take on the world let the dogs poop.
Once you start a tradition like Weekend Shoes, it’s very difficult to go back. Since I became a regular working stiff (with a side of creatively and literally BANKRUPT grad student, and no, I don’t want to talk about it), although I work in a pretty casual office, I feel compelled to look somewhat put together every day. This is compounded by working in SoHo, where there are tons of well-dressed people milling about, and the less well-dressed people always appear to be tourists and I want to differentiate myself from them.
So I try not to wear things like sneakers or pajama shirts to work (though I have failed on both these counts more than once. I’m only human. Also, what the eff is happening with all of these parenthetical asides? My workshop teacher said in September that we, individually, were only allowed 1 more parenthetical aside for the entire semester, so I’ve tried to take them out of my writing completely and they’re all cropping up in my intra-office emails and apparently my blog posts? This was a really pretentious parenthetical aside, and I’m sorry. I’m about to post some unflattering photos of myself, though, so sick burn on me.)
Anyway, Weekend Shoes are great because, while I spent quite a bit of time during the week figuring out what to wear, on Saturday AND Sunday (gross, I know) I put on the same pair of ripped jeans that I bought for $12 that are actually supposed to be capris but are jeans on me because I am short, and usually my East Dillon Lions tshirt, and my Weekend Shoes. And I’m done for two whole days. It’s extraordinary.
[My outfit works out roughly the same, except that I usually add a crocheted hat (which, when placed at the right angle looks unapologetically like a chef’s hat) to mask my unwashed hair. WINKY FACE! 😉 –Carly]
There are some drawbacks to Weekend Shoes, however. They are not nice to run in, especially for a girl with wobbly ankles given to over-pronation (serious runner term, WHAT). I discovered this when I jogged home from the train station last night because I had to pee that badly (my city life is unspeakably glamorous). And even though my Weekend Shoes are a size 6, they make my feet look weirdly large? And god forbid someone decides one weekend that they’re too good for Weekend Shoes.
If one person wears Weekend Shoes and the other person does not wear Weekend Shoes, a serious wardrobe imbalance occurs. Tension builds, the kind of tension that cannot be dissipated with brunch and a round of Wii boxing.
The other night we were preparing to go out, and the shoe was on the other foot, AS IT WERE, and Carly put on her Weekend Shoes but I did not. The following exchange occurred:
Carly: Aw man! Well, I guess I can change out of my weekend shoes.
Sarah: You don’t have to! Look, it evens out, I don’t even think these shoes look good.
Carly: Well, now that I’m looking at them, I don’t think they look good either. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but it is the weekend.
Sarah: And those are my weekend shoes.
Carly: I don’t want you to feel any pressure from me, but it is still Sunday. And some things are sacred.
So. Weekend Shoes. Be careful of the traditions you start, because you will end up looking dumb and sloppy, but feeling comfortable and relaxed, every Saturday and Sunday until the end of time. Because as it turns out, if wearing the exact same stupid outfit every weekend is wrong, I don’t want to be right.