favortie neighborhood hangout, Hippo Playground.
After being shot in the head last month during a political rally in a Pennsylvania field, the first audible sentences by former President Trump, repeated four times, were: “Let me get my shoes.” (For the historical record, one time he said, “Let me get my shoes on.”)
I couldn’t help being impressed that, in the seconds after the man had been mere millimeters from being assassinated, shoes were his top concern. Granted, it was an instant of tremendous shock and confusion. Who knows how one would react to narrowly escaping murder. Still, shoes?
As a long-time editor of a footwear industry trade publication, I couldn’t help but wonder what type of shoes Trump was wearing. I assume that on a hot summer night and being a dapper dresser, he was sporting tasseled loafers—easily knocked off when a swarm of Secret Service agents pounced on No. 45 in heroic efforts to shield him from additional gunshots. Then I couldn’t help but think how his choice would be right in step with this issue’s This Just In (p. 6) photo essay depicting street style from around the world. The classic loafer was all the rage at the recent Men’s Fashion Week in Paris. Trump, I thought, would take pride in knowing he’s on-trend with fashion A-listers. He might even claim he is the one setting the trend.
I’m not being disrespectful. Noticing what people are wearing and saying about shoes comes with the job. I took a similar interest in the tactical boots the Secret Service snipers were wearing. Of course, there was nothing frivolous about what happened that day. Our country is deeply fractured, and the hostility, distrust, hate, and violence are boiling over. It doesn’t seem like we can agree on much and, worse, too many of us aren’t even willing to try. The chasm is only getting wider. We seem to have less and less in common. What, if anything, unifies us?
This is where my years working the footwear beat kicks in. Shoes unify us. Virtually every American owns at least one pair and can’t safely leave home without putting them on. We all need and appreciate what footwear brings to our daily lives in terms of comfort, support, protection, and performance. Not to mention the seemingly universal enjoyment we get from style, whether it takes the form of individual expression or shows what fashion tribe we belong to. For example, lately people from all walks of life are sporting Hoka, the frontrunner in performance style. Adidas (Samba), Crocs, On, and Birkenstock are also hitting it big on mass appeal. Millions of Americans can agree on these sartorial statements, right? Perhaps that’s a step toward common ground, one rooted in genuine comfort.
For the record, many of these shoe-related musings originated at 2 a.m. the night Trump was shot, while I was sitting in a New York City emergency room. It was the third such wee-hour visit (two in Manhattan and one in suburban Connecticut) over the past two weeks, necessitated by the fact that my daughter has been suffering from crushing headaches, which left her in excruciating pain. Left stranded and stressed in waiting rooms for hours upon hours while doctors try to diagnose what’s going on and figure out how to cure it, your mind wanders down some rabbit holes, fretting about work, health, finances, and way-too-scary “what if” scenarios.
During those middle-of-the-night hospital vigils, it dawned on me that ERs do not discriminate. All walks of life come through those sliding doors in need of care, administered by a range of wonderful professionals. So do all sorts of shoe styles. The doctors, nurses, aides, and other staffers I observed generally sported Hoka, Crocs, or Dansko. Many of them color-coordinated their footwear with their scrubs. Several made shoes the statement piece of their monochromatic uniforms via cheerful colors and/or prints. While these work shoes have to perform, perhaps style provides a respite in what can be a tremendously stressful and gut-wrenching workplace. I also took in the canary yellow Crocs a toddler was wearing as his father carried him in. They made me smile, as I recalled how my daughter, now 21, adored her colorful Cayman clogs, tricked out with numerous Jibbitz when she was younger. This being summer, where the high humidity matches the temperatures, there were plenty of flip-flops and slides in sight. (The pre-dawn hours might have played a role in ER visit footwear decisions, as well.) I also spied snazzy heels on a nervous-looking young woman who was dressed for a night on the town that had obviously taken an upsetting turn.
Life is unpredictable, sometimes cruelly so. ERs are a testament to that. All we can do is try to keep striding forward—in whatever pair of shoes suits us best. Kudos to our industry for offering a seemingly endless choice of styles, colors, materials, technologies, and embellishments, season after season, for those life journeys. We deliver. I think most Americans would wholeheartedly agree, if they fully understood the incredible R&D, logistics, blood, sweat, and talent that goes into making all that possible.
