an ode to my bright red converses.

I am in love.

Again.

With my bright red Converses.

We have a commitment, you know? I always know where to find them. They never disappear, they never break up or break my heart. They're always up for a good heart to heart, but they don't judge. I've never heard my converses tell me that Taylor Swift is annoying.

I love the look of Converses, I always have. When I went to Korea I went ahead and splurged on my first proper pair of classic red low Chuck Taylors, after experimenting when I was a kid with some mimicries. When I have a kid the first pair of shoes I'm going to buy them is a pair of red Converse booties.

I love how they look good with everything. Socks, no socks. Jeans, track pants, 50's retro dresses. I could probably have gotten away with wearing them with my ball gown, a la Cinderella Story. I love how they were attention-seeking in the best meaning of the term when I first bought them and have gotten better with age. I love how they're always there; familiar, edgy, en trend, bold, romantic, comforting.

Bright red shoes can tell you a lot about people. There's no place like home, all of that. It's a symbol of originality and self expression. It's telling people fuck it, I'm wearing bright red shoes and nobody's going to stop me. It's saying you can love me or hate me, but nobody's going to come between me and my beloved Converses.

One day I'll be eighty-seven and wrinkly, a little Asian Bob Hawke, re-releasing all my books in large print and sitting next to my soulmate in our big farmhouse surrounded by grandchildren. In my bright red converses.