Oh God, that @markpropermag is going to talk about the 90s again.
Well, right, I’m doing a little bit of work for Reebok. There I said it. But there’s no nepotism, favouritism or any other isms here, because these Reebok Classics are something I would wear now, but crucially they put me in mind of my mediocre Macclesfield schooldays. And that gives me something legitimate to write about.
You see, being one of those reluctant left footers who went to the school because “It got better results” rather than any real allegiance to Jesus and co, my education was rather strict in a way only catholic schools in the 90s were. It’s only now I realise that any independence was discouraged and as such, the school uniform policy was strictly enforced. We had to wear blazers. Kids in blazers look fucking daft. Are you reading this, Jesus? DAFT.
It had latin on the badge – something about the cross of Christ. I forget. We had to wear a tie too. Aside from weird and wonderful knots we invented for our tie, the only way to assert any sartorial superiority or individuality was via footwear. The policy was clear. Black shoes. Black shoes or fucking else.
For first year, I wore black shoes, fearful of a detention in a school 15 miles and a 50 minute bus journey through the hills from home. I dutifully donned my blazer, scared of being sat down to write “I must not break ranks and assert any part of my personality” 1000 times. But by second year, I’d got it sussed and it was then when I felt safe enough to wear shoey trainers. Diadora, Travel Fox and get this… L.A Gear were my suede shoe choices. I got away with it consistently, as did many of my mates. It was our only outlet. Well that and haircuts but I’ll leave that for another time.
My 11 year old starts a similarly strict looking school this September. It remains to be seen whether he’ll get away with something like this. But me? I’m gonna wear the black version of these to parents evening, just as a final ‘Fuck you’.
I should probably grow up.