Back and forth to the daily grind at his office, my father wore a pair of leather loafers, selecting a color, black or dark brown or cordovan as appropriate for his suit, each pair nearly identical save that minute chromatic variation, each pair adorned with tassels. Each pair made a similar resounding echo as he trod across the wooden hallways of the house, passing from foyer to kitchen to staircase to bedroom, where something more comfortable replaced the stiff leather. He smelled of paperwork, of letters written and sent, of tobacco smoke. I found these shoes to be utter ridiculous, occasionally sticking my small socked feet into the large opening, shuffling around, shoes like skis, feigning importance, a trip and a tumble always imminent. If you had stopped me, and told me that in about twenty years, I would actually want a similar pair for myself, to wear as I went to and fro my own office, each day working, my brain my have imploded. If you had visited me later, say in high school, or even in university, and told me that I would one day be drawn to the same, or nearly the same, tasseled leather loafers my father wore, I would have laughed, argued vehemently that such masculine aesthetics were just not for me. One of my favorite pair of shoes in my closet are a warm caramel penny loafer, cherished and treasured shoes selected among a sea of stilettos while I was vacationing in Paris. I am endeavoring to be more frugal, but, if my will fails, I would like to add some tassels to the mix. This pair from Jeffrey Campbell is especially alluring. People change. This is a good thing.
(image taken from Polyvore)
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