Get Down

Dress (Cooperative via Urban Outfitters - old, similar here), Blazer (Bebe - so old, similar here and here), Sneakers (Converse - you can seriously buy these everywhere), Watch (Marc by Marc Jacobs), Necklace (Dogeared)   

My usual view (read: unwavering gaze of scrutiny) from atop 5-inch heels, stomping around at 6'2'' feels a lot different than the view from down here in these sneakers, where the air is much less intense, and considerably more blithe. And while normally I reserve my flat-wearing exploits for matters relating exclusively to running, the beach, and/or the grocery store, in recent months, sneakers have been sneakily (<— pun intended, but not because it's a particularly good one) making their way into my shoe rotation, despite my better efforts to stay altitudinous.

I think this mostly has to do with the fact that there are so many goddamn cute sneakers out there these days, and the fact that earlier this year, I was forcibly flattened (as it were) when I stupidly sprained my ankle falling down my stairs—NOT wearing heels, mind you! I am much more stable in stilettos than I am in flats. (I got really good at figuring out how to make a limp look like it's a part of your outfit, by the way.)

Whatever the reason for my tennis shoe fetish lately, the outcome is the same, and pleasantly amusing in that I've taken to mostly wearing sneakers with dresses and skirts, a trend perfected by Leandra Medine, and 4-year-old girls everywhere who choose their own outfits. And those toddlers know what they're doing, with that kind of carefree spirit—a youthful inhibition—coupled with a sense of purpose that makes them say, "I'm wearing my purple princess dress with my light-up sneakies today, Mommy!" (I realize children probably don't sound anything like this). Which makes me think, maybe the reason sneakers have been peppering my outfit lexicon as of late is because my subconscious knows they're somehow good for me.

Grounding oneself (literally) with a pair of sneakers worn with say, a party dress, or a blazer (or both!), knocked down off of your high-heeled pedestal—your place of carping, does sort of give you some perspective (figuratively) in the sense that you can't really take yourself—or anything for that matter—too seriously when you're prancing around in a polka dot dress and a pair of high-tops (it's reeeeally hard to act huffy when your shoes squeak—trust me, I've tried). 

But maybe a forced mood of "eh-I-guess-it's-not-that-big-of-a-deal-I'm-wearing-tennies-today!" insouciance brought on by a happy pair of rubber-soled sports shoes, is a dose of perspective we all need every once in a while in the midst of our overly urgent and upsetting, EVERYTHING'S SUPER IMPORTANT ALL THE TIME ALWAYS day-to-day lives. I know I need it. And so what if it's a pair of ground-hugging gym shoes that reminds me to chill the fuck out sometimes and happily shrug something off?

Sometimes you've got to get down to get up.