Third grade. The year my feet grew four sizes and I had to stand on the back row of class photos because I was freakishly tall. It seemed as though I would totally follow in my mom’s side of the family’s footsteps as an epic basketball player, and live up to the 5’8″ height, predicted by doctors upon doubling my size as a tot. In order to keep up with my growth spurts (and probably get my paddle boats used to athletic shoes) I owned every color and style of converse they made. Of course, I thought this was the coolest shoe ever because it had my dad’s name and my middle name emblazoned proudly on the side with a star – CHUCK TAYLOR. Legit.
Years later, these gems of a shoe found their way onto the dance competition and pageant circuit. We were clearly new to this whole pageant thing, and a clogging solo had been choreographed for me to “Skater Boy.” (It may actually be titled “Skater Boi,” but that’s beyond embarrassing). When my mom and I set our minds to something, we go all out, and Skater Boy was no exception. Rhinestoned camo cutoffs, a red tank with a ripped fishnet overlay and of course – clogs specially built into a pair of rhinestoned (le duh) converse. As I gave up my last pageant title tonight, this special dance was reminisced about by many of my pageant friends and family.
You can put your kid in sneakers, but they may still only score four points in one season. Doctors can use modern medicine to predict size (I was itty bitty – someone should have caught on) and only hit the 5’2″ mark. You can be too old for pageants and still own that pair of converse clogging shoes. However, I still have a soft spot in my heart for Chuck Taylor’s. When I caught a glimpse of these silver, slightly iridescent beaming shoes – I knew they had found their home.