This just in...

compliments of zappos.com.



I don't usually wear Chuck Taylors, I'm just not that cool. Not usually, anyway. There is one exception. And if a fresh new box of sneakers with no arch support is sitting in our living room it can only mean one thing. I'm going to France. We're leaving Sunday. We'll be there 3 weeks. More on what that means to this blog in another post.

I would like to take a moment to admit that the above photo was inspired by ParisMOMster's blog (see June 8 entry under "Party of Four.") I also need to admit that I felt terrible yesterday when I stopped working on a draft of this post long enough to refresh my blog, only to find that the MOMster had written a very sweet comment about Cedra. I'd just typed an extended rant about the French and their fashion exigeances. Delete, delete, delete! But it's true that I do feel the need to upgrade my wardrobe every time we go to France.

I wish I were more naturally fashion-forward than I am, and I used to try harder than I do. But since I hooked up with my huz our shared fashion disorder has only become more acute. Compulsive Uniform Disorder, that's what it is. We both dress as if we're in uniform. If we find an item of clothing we like, we buy it in five colors and wear it over and over. That's why I have six pairs of capri pants, about ten knee-length skirts, six vintage 50s housewife dresses, and 10 Johnny-collared shirts. Michael's wardrobe isn't as complicated. 10 pairs of Carhartts, 20 t-shirts from Target, 20 pairs of white tube socks and four and a half million pairs of Gap, Old Navy and Banana Republic (could there be a more offensive name?) boxer shorts from when my SIL worked for Gap Co. .... Four years ago.

The Chuck Taylors are kind of a French classic. People have been wearing them for decades. And for the fashion-challenged like myself who can't remember whether I'm supposed to be wearing beaded Pakistani slippers or gold ballerina flats this year, it's nice to have them to fall back on. I used to always try to buy a color of Chucks that isn't marketed in Europe, at one time it was green, another time purple. I got off on having young Francs stop me on the street to say "Ooooh, gym yang tape ass kit! Genie Al!" (okay, that's "J'aime bien tes baskets.") These days all I ask is that people NOT take notice of me. Solution, white Chucks. Couldn't resist getting Cedra's in the impossible to find cocoa brown, though.