Me and my sneakers, from childhood to adolescence (part 1) – Carte blanche to… Nicolò

If you had known me as a child or teenager, you would never have bet that I would one day write articles related to clothing or style.

I must say that it took me a long time to start worrying about my clothing style.

Even when I was 14, I still wore long-sleeved T-shirts that were much too short , since they were already three years old.

That, and pants with extreme holes in them, and even a parka I'd been wearing since I was in elementary school.

I did this not for the sake of style, but out of pure and simple negligence. Which had the gift of annoying my father, who said to me one day:

"But you look like a tramp Nicolò, you can't go out like that!"

To which I replied, very candidly:

"Well, it's okay, I can still fit in, right?"

In short, where other parents complained about having teenagers who cost them too much in clothes , mine were rather exasperated by my total indifference to dress conventions.

I even did everything to avoid anyone buying me any clothes, as I saw them as boring and restrictive objects.

Yet I was careful about my appearance.

Encouraged by both my father and my mother, I cared about my hair, shaving , I put cream on my face, I already wore perfume, and even had preferences in terms of sunglasses...

Whether it was true or not, I did not belie the cliché about the coquetry of Italians.

Despite this, I really didn't understand why people were so obsessed with clothes: too ephemeral, too changeable over the seasons, too complicated to choose... I didn't see the point (yet).

On the other hand, one piece was an exception...

The shoe (and therefore, at that age, exclusively the sneaker) already enjoyed a special status and special consideration.

For this "Carte Blanche", I would like to tell you about the evolution of my relationship with sneakers throughout my life, from childhood to today , through different models and brands , and a good number of personal anecdotes.

It all started with my father and some visually charged Nikes.

From childhood to late adolescence (part 1)

1. A father, a son, sneakers

At the time, Dad made it a point of honor that his son had nice sneakers.

I think like a lot of dads, he projects a bit of his own childhood onto his son. He wants other kids to think he's cool.

And when he took me to choose a pair of Nikes at "Go Sport" or "Courir", I felt a sense of pride in him.

Looking back, I believe he was proud to have acquired the financial means to do so, since he arrived in France with far more dreams than money in his pocket.

But beyond that, he was simply a fan of beautiful sneakers.

I remember his beloved pair of Air Force Ones : gray camouflage, with metal-tipped laces, which he bought in New York.

" Ca Nicolo, you can't find them anywhere anymore , " he said enthusiastically.

"They are... COLLECTOR!" he insisted, pronouncing the word in English tinged with Italian "R"s and "L"s.

But at the age I was, I didn't care if other kids thought my shoes were cool. The idea that you could be judged by your shoes was, to me, incomprehensible.

On the other hand, I understood that all this cost money, and that this money was the fruit of a parent's effort.

So, since it was so important to him , I tried to reproduce and display this pride that I perceived in my father.

And then, let's be honest...

These sneakers still had a certain appeal.

2. Nike “That make you run really fast” (from childhood to when I was 13)

I don't remember the exact models well.

I think there were some Air Maxes and TNs in the pile. ...

And for me, it was simple: the more it looked like it came straight out of a video game or superhero thing, the happier I was.

Come on, I'll even admit something to you: if we could imagine them at the feet of Sonic the Hedgehog and his antagonist Shadow, I would be won over.

And then, you know, we sometimes attribute superpowers to our clothes ...

Like many children, I imagined that the more "technical" the design of the shoe , the faster, more effortlessly I would run and jump high in the playground.

Looking back, I realize that for teenagers and young adults at the time, these sneakers probably represented something stronger than the "toy" aspect they had in my eyes.

The last pair of Nikes was cool, it was a status symbol , precisely.

But history shows that from rock to preppy style , no young person has ever been able to find "cool" what their parents imposed on them as a given when they were a child.

And I was no exception.

During the early years of middle school, social patterns begin to emerge in your life: there are cool, popular people, and there are less so people.

Dreamy, quite reserved in public, more concerned with my video games and my fiction novels than with obtaining the approval of the group (and already quite temperamental), I had no ambition to be part of the cool people.

However...

I wanted to be far enough from the opposite extreme so as not to give (another) opportunity to jokers, always on the lookout for a comrade to ridicule.

And if that meant, among other things, wearing pumps that wouldn't attract attention , so be it!

So I set out to find a sneaker that I could wear without question.

Ultimately, the sneakers I ended up asking my mom for were...

3. Consensus Converse (12-15 years)

It was probably through this pair that I first grasped the concept of "timeless style".

"When I was your age, we wore them too," my mother told me.

"It will always come back into fashion," she added, with certainty and a nonchalance that struck me.

“What do you mean, ALWAYS?” I thought, shocked by the prospect of an eternally right choice, and its implications.

The echo of these words will continue to make me think years later .

But in the meantime, I was convinced: if it was about style, clearly, Mom knew better than me, after all.

Seeing that lots of other teenagers were wearing them, I said to myself:

"Great, let's take that, and we'll finally stop bothering me with these shoe stories."

Happy - proud, even! - to opt for absolute ease , I choose them black, trusting my mother to "get them in a great shop, not far from the school, where they are not too expensive!"

By the way, I even remark to myself that "Still, it looks pretty good with black jeans!"

But after two months, big disappointment: these Converse become wrecks.

That's when I learned, through I-don't-remember-what third-party opinion, that they were probably fake.

Hence the great price... and the terrible durability.

Never mind! My mother bought me some more: "This time, you can be sure that they are real!"

Indeed, they seem slightly different , I see that the fabric is not quite the same, the soles either... The previous ones must indeed have been counterfeits.

But three months later, the same verdict : wrecks on my feet again.

So of course, a teenager who only wears one pair of shoes at a time , it destroys a sneaker in no time.

That said, true or false, I had the impression that it came down to the same thing: they had not shone through their solidity.

But a little out of spite, I continued to buy other pairs. High ones, low ones...

I tried to alternate them, to be more careful... And above all, I had simply resigned myself to walking in these sneakers, which would only be beautiful for ten days, but which had the merit of buying me a little social peace through their conformism.

That said, my 15th birthday was fast approaching...

And at that age , you start to be an "individual": yes sir, you are your own person, with your own tastes and opinions! (Or at least, that's what we think.)

So for me this was the era where my favorite sneakers would be...

4. The Supra Aberrantes (15 years old)

There are memories that your memory obscures for your own good.

Unfortunately, the thoroughness and integrity that I always try to demonstrate have caused the veil to fall.

They undid the lock that my subconscious had carefully placed on certain objects... and the memories associated with them.

Because you see, as flashy as they are, it's not so much these Supras themselves that cause me a sharp pain, a sudden feeling of shame, but what led me to wear them.

So, let's get the thorn out of the foot and burst the abscess without further delay : I have...

No, it's too hard. I can't say it.

...But it is necessary. Out of professionalism, it is necessary.

I owe you the truth: towards the end of my 14th year, for a few months, I danced "tektonik" .

Or more precisely, what I called "electro dance"...

In a vain attempt not to be associated with the phosphorescent lunatics, the reckless cockatoos who adorned their skulls with crests of gelled hair, and wore clothes each more tight and fluorescent than the last.

At that time, they were already so unanimously decried that I did not dare reveal to anyone, except those close to me, the pleasure that I also found in dancing like that.

I assure you, however, that I never went so far as to dress like them.

But at 15 , I was like a sponge , suddenly soaking up every form of musical expression I came across.

And for me, the clothing had to reflect the emotions that the music provoked in me.

Now, it turns out that a certain dancer (whose name I have forgotten) left a strong impression on me in a clip on TV: aerial, supple, skillful, he danced differently, as if he were "made of rubber".

And above all, unlike the others: he used his feet , executing steps with disconcerting ease.

Feet that were, precisely, shod with a pair of Supra Sky Top, in a zebra pattern , just as enticing, that I could not however find again.

In awe, I set out to try to get the same ones: I too would go further than just waving my arms above my head, in secret in my room. I too would dance... with my feet!

And these shoes evoked magical powers in me like I hadn't seen in a pair since my childhood Nike "Shark" shoes.

In fact, I was guilty of ignorance : since I had barely any idea of ​​the existence of other styles of dance, It took me a few months to understand that absolutely everything I liked about this dance, every step I found "cool", was in fact a reworking, almost aped, of what was found in various styles of Hip Hop dance.

And that this famous dancer who had inspired me was in fact... A hip hop dancer , who had somewhat modified his brand image to fit the commercial trend.

So I had discovered the pleasure of movement, of self-expression through the body and rhythm... But I just hadn't discovered it in the right place!

Strengthened by this revelation, and now knowing the true cultural lineage of my Supra , I would go and sign up for hip hop dance classes . First breakdancing but... It was a little too physically demanding.

And then I hear about "Funk Style", "Locking", "Popping"...

I go to a class, led by a teacher who looks like he came straight out of Brooklyn in the 90s.

And I have a big crush on this universe , which already at that time was completely anachronistic!

Probably due to lack of rigor , I wouldn't continue the lessons. The teacher, in his immense "coolness", lets me go with a smile "You know, dance... either you learn it, or you live it".

I think I understand what he means, and it warms my heart.

Besides, at the same time, I would discover Michael Jackson , the only person on earth who was able to make me wear loafers , for a year or two.

Two pairs of Weston loafers, by the way, which my father-in-law , had given me. A black pair, and an all-white pair .

But I digress, these are not sneakers.

Regardless, I will never completely stop dancing after this, and it will have an impact on the way I choose clothes .

And deep down I owe it a little to the series of events that these colorful Supras triggered ... And to Michael Jackson, of course.

Besides, the grace and agility of his movements would sweep everything else aside in my impressionable teenage eyes, immediately drowning out any interest I might have had in other styles of dance.

But above all, his Pop music of varied inspiration will allow me to gradually reconnect with Soul, Rythm n' Blues, and particularly Funk ... Which were precisely the favorite genres of my parents, and particularly of my father.

At that moment, the sneakers that would mark the rest of my adolescence and allow me to express this musical journey were going to be...

Nike Dunk Funk (16 to 19 years old)

Where did my love for this model come from?

Were they fashionable when I wore them? Not more than that, in my memories, I was even a little out of step .

The slightly trendy guys around me were more often in Nike SB "Blazer" , a shoe with a slightly more skate look.

Towards the end of this period, I even think I was already seeing the return of the Air Max among one or two friends who were always two steps ahead of the trends.

But I gradually came to terms with the fact that bowing to the law of the majority was not like me , and I didn't like it.

I admit that I already liked the contradiction.

But not necessarily a frontal contradiction, not an "opposition": I was trying to do what a friend very rightly calls "the side step" .

That is, choose the path that forks.

Placing oneself "outside" the debate, via a choice, is neither a "compromise", nor a rejection of the norm, nor an adherence to it...

So I choose Dunks : also high, with a "soft" appearance, but more massive in their shape , and more complex in their lines.

After checking, I decide at this point that they are "not really fashionable, but not too "unfashionable" either" , which gives me a secret satisfaction.

Also, the toe shape and perforations also remind me of my dad's Air Force Ones .

It was probably reassuring for me.

And then there is a practical aspect to this choice: I choose them because thanks to their soft but thick sole, they are able to hold pointe shoes.

Yes yes, "points".

Because, as I said earlier, at that moment, I dance, and I dance a lot .

So it sounds silly like that, but try doing this:

Ten times a day , with the same pair of shoes.

And you will see that suddenly your sustainability standards will have to be revised upwards.

But let's give credit where credit is due: these Dunks (as well as the other pair to come) will have lasted me longer because I wore them alternately with the Westons mentioned earlier... Which have undergone unheard of levels of mistreatment, and a good number of resolings. , until they finally become unimportable.

Now, if I only told you about this first pair of Dunks, they wouldn't deserve their title of "Dunk of Funk" .

The other pair that deserves this name is this one:

Seeing this, you might legitimately wonder if I wasn't just trying to do everything I could to get noticed.

But that was not quite the case.

The year I turned sixteen was a difficult year for me.

In the space of eight months, I went through a few trials, the most notable of which were a divorce on one side of my family, and especially on the other side, the death of my father.

... Stop, put away the violins! I wouldn't tell you this if it didn't give the necessary context to the story of these sneakers.

It's just that when you're faced with these kinds of events, at an age when your identity is being formed, you cling to what you can .

And the need to assert oneself , already important for most teenagers, became essential for me.

Now, there are healthy ways to do this, and less healthy ways to do it.

I was lucky enough to be able to do it in a fairly healthy way : by immersing myself in the music that my father was passionate about and which, by fate, had begun to fascinate me shortly before he left, I maintained a form of connection.

I was still dancing, even taking singing lessons, and going back in time through the old playlists he made for me when I was little.

But then why these shoes with improbable customization?

At the time, the world (or at least the one around me) only had eyes for Rock, and then, more and more, Techno.

But I needed the world to know.

Let him know that wherever I walked , my steps were carried by the power and joy of this moving music , the "Groove" of another time.

By the sweet inexplicable madness of Funk, and the raw intensity of Soul.

Even today, like a totem, this pair (much more worn than in the photo) has remained safe at the back of my closet.