Chuck

Yes, I have finally discovered Mr. Chuck Taylor. High. In brilliant pink and grape. Soiled just the right amount. I think we're in love.

When I wear my Chucks, I feel like I am part of some larger cult of latte-swigging hipsters who proclaim their love for obscure New York garage rock bands and those lanky, long haired boys in the perfect jeans. There is a lot of bleedover, of course, and the retro appeal is undeniable since I'm an 80's girl who wears earrings approximately the color and shape of neon saucer plates. Chucks are supposed to symbolize the stick-it-to-the-man, anti Nike attitude i.e. authenticity.

Paradoxically, Nike bought Converse and Chucks are also being embraced by middle class suburbia with all their trappings of ruffled miniskirts and Juicy Couture. Hypocrisy? Yes, please. But that doesn't change the fact they're ridiculously comfortable and look right at home under a pair of jeans and add a spin to casual dresses. Being part of that middle class suburbia, I'm sure those holier-than-thou hipsters are spinning in their mosh pit graves... wearing a pair of grayed hightops, no less.

Two

I once knew a boy named Julian. He was half-Korean and half-Swiss and looked undecided in his race, like a Korean with shoulders a little too broad, a shade too tall, cheekbones that were counteracted with the Swiss blood from his father's side. I love the way biracial Asians look because they are suspended on a silk line somewhere between East and West, not quite meeting either way and deliciously satisfying the requirements of both. And I am jealous, too, because I am Chinese by birth and American by upbringing, and magazines seem to forget I exist; maybe the editors at Cosmopolitan think that my eyes are so small I can't see how alien I feel on their glossy white pages. But the children from Asian and Caucasian couples are like the Suzie Wongs, Yokos, Ching Chong Changs, after an Extreme Makeover episode. The yellow's been beamed out of your skin, or your eyelids are sliced and sutured in black; maybe prosthetic bone has been hot-glued to your nose bridge. You are not quite yellow and not quite white, and sometimes you are so beautiful.