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.