Blue Sneakers and Other Fashion Crimes

I’ve been watching street fashion for long enough to know that everyone’s got an opinion and most of them are wrong. The white sneakers thing has gone on too long—endless parade of the same unblemished Adidas clones, or neon abominations that hurt to look at. What nobody’s doing is blue with stripes. Just blue. Simple blue with a stripe. That should be the move this summer but I know it won’t be.

People in Teletubby costumes are always suspicious. Not sometimes—always. There’s something off about them, like they’re either headed to rob a bank or scoop up toddlers. The ones I see lurking around clubs definitely have a dealer somewhere and I want that number.

Then there’s the metrosexual hipster thing that won’t die. Boys without any actual manhood, worried about their skincare routine, terrified of a full beard. Girls keep saying they want real men—stubble, sweater, something warm in the eyes—but they keep ending up with these hairless creatures anyway. Someone’s lying, probably everyone.

I watched a girl stand in the corner of a club in grey everything, perfectly invisible, blending so completely into the dark walls that nobody saw her arrive or leave. She just slipped past security like a ghost. That’s its own kind of style.

Fashion is half confidence, half not giving a shit, and that girl had both. You can’t buy that. The Japanese kid with the pink polka-dot tote? Perfect accessory, perfect moment, and yeah, all the photographers showed up for that bag more than anything else. It works because it’s uncomplicated.

Tights and pantyhose should be burned. I remember being a kid, that impossible constriction, that awful genital feeling, the way they rip and cling. Nobody needed to invent those. Summer means ditching them entirely and I’d throw mine in a fire if I wore them.

What really gets me is how little blue actually shows up in street fashion. Everyone plays it safe—black, white, neon, grey. But there’s something about a solid blue with a stripe that just works. Understated. Not trying. That’s the move.