If you have been following me for a while you know that in addition to a fabulous pair of heels, I love my Keds. I wore them as a kid and have carried on as I’ve gotten older. Currently I have four pairs, a purple pair, a chevron pair and gold glitter Kate Spade platforms. My final pair has to be some that I wear the most, my grey Keds.
Three years ago I purchased my grey Keds with yellow laces for when the Nashville Predators were in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. I needed something versatile and comfortable for game day and they quickly became my favorite pair of shoes.
I have worn them with everything. Dresses, jumpsuits, skirts, overalls, jeans, you name it! They have been on trips to New Orleans, Charleston, London, Santorini, Athens, and all over Italy with me.
So today I thought I would write an ode to my favorite pair of sneakers. They met their demise in Rome and not only am I leaving Italy with one less pair of shoes, I’m also leaving with a lighter suitcase.
My dear Keds,
We’ve had some incredible years together. You’ve been with me as I walked the streets of my home Nashville, the bridges of London, the alleys of Venice and the cobblestone streets of Santorini.
We’ve had good times and bad. You were there when the Nashville Predators fell to the Blackhawks in the 2015 Playoffs, to the Sharks in the 2016 Playoff’s and took me back to the car both times, sticky with beer on the floor and a heavy heart. You’ve taken me to glamorous places and not, from vacation to grocery stores, and everything in between.
You were great. Perfectly adding a casual vibe to any outfit I had and pillowing my feet with your comfortable soles and strong laces.
While on our trip to Italy, a stumble on a cobblestone road were the cause of death. You were already dirty, canvas soft from multiple washes. I knew one more wash in the machine would bring the end to you. But I wasn’t ready to let you go yet. You’re an old friend. Old friends don’t get the boot when they’re worn with age after years of faithful service.
So I let you become stained and dusty, knowing that you couldn’t endure much longer. Everytime I put you on, I’d pray for one more walk and outing.
So when I stubbed the front of you in Rome and your sole came off, I knew this signaled a short but sweet death. You died doing what we love, walking around and exploring a new city. If you could talk, you’d tell about all the great sights and roads walked on, how you were reliable and kept my feet dry and comfortable.
So goodbye old friend. I thought it only fitting I leave you in the last country we explored together. I’ll never forget you. Below are some of the great times we had together.
