In the PE changing room at school, when we weren't comparing chest sizes we were comparing trainers.
I was all dowdy plimsolls and Asics while the others regularly switched around brand-new Nike or Adidas, scuffing them lightly before a new pair magically appeared. Our "kicks" were our sole mates and we'd wear them with pride.
When my dad discovered that Converse trainers were an affordable way of gratifying his children with the all-important branded goods, he bought them in abundance for my sisters and me. They became badges of teenage honour and we'd get them as messed up as possible as well as wearing them with the most unlikely clothes: vintage slip dresses; cardigans tied up as skirts; knee-high socks and so on. Somewhere down the line I, along with most of the fashion-loving female population, got roped into wanting to look taller and supposedly sexier and thus began the never-ending competitive clacking of heels, momentarily forgetting how attached I was to my flat-footed kicks.
Fortunately, in the absurdly cyclical nature of fashion, the past always comes back screaming, and I am a proper trainers-and-dress sort of girl - the type that can't be too dressed up for fear of being stuck in the "girly" cubbyhole all the time. As the blogger behind Style Bubble I'm lucky enough to attend Fashion Week, and the spring/summer 2012 shows in New York and London suggest that sportswear is back. Take your pick from BMX, surf, ski or, on a subversive level, wide boy. I am enamoured of young Canadian designer Thomas Tait's show in London, for which he had Nike trainers customised to go with his sleek cocoon coats and loose separates.
This inspired me to go to Niketown, where I explained that I needed a pair of neon green trainers to go with a 60s fluoro-pink column dress with lime-green stripes, the reason being the dressier something is the more it needs to be told to calm down by sturdy trainers. It's also about revelling in the fact that not teetering on heels actually makes you a whole lot more comfortable in whatever bit of fancy attire you've got going on.
I've become addicted to my Nikes, doing impromptu star jumps and scaling brick walls. I've even started saying things like: "Just chillax, man!" Teenage kicks never felt so good.
Next week: Sarah Harris
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