The Life-Changing Magic of Wearing Only One Pair of Shoes

An ode to the Vans slip-on, my forever shoe.

I have way more photos like this on my phone’s camera roll than I’d like to admit.

There’s a wistful observation that goes one day, unbeknownst to either of you, your mother will pick you up for the very last time. I don’t have kids, but sometimes when this sentiment comes to mind, it does so in the reverse, and not in relationship to parenthood, but shoes. Specifically, my beloved Vans slip-ons. It seems that one day, unbeknownst to me, I picked a pair up, put them on, and have never taken them off since.

Right now, by my count, I have six pairs: one each in navy and cream, two in checkerboard and two in white (one from the collaboration with JJJound). I usually have some overlap because one pair gets a bit too run down and it becomes what I think of as a back bencher (sports people, is this the correct way to invoke that term?), while a newer pair becomes the more “formal” (lol) option. Essentially one is for public outings and the other is for local things like shuffling around the neighborhood, walking the dog, running errands, sometimes even the gym (strength days, not cardio!). One of my white pairs, I’ve started stepping on the heel, so it’s more of a mule now, though I can flip it back up, if need be.

Shoes are so annoying and complicated these days. Oh, loafers are in, now boat shoes. Lord knows there’s always some new collaboration to chase, usually expensive and with little design merit. The whole shoe market — especially so for sneakers — has been gamified, so you’re always waiting for the next literal shoe to drop, to chase it like some addict. The churn is so unbelievable that a whole secondary market had to be created to accommodate its never ending insanity. And then there’s the websites and social media accounts that obsessively track the comings and goings … it’s exhausting.

I checked out of that game long ago. Actually, I was never part of it. I can’t remember exactly when I started wearing Vans, or if I knew right away that I wouldn’t stray from them, but here we are. I asked my mom and she doesn’t remember when I first started wearing them but she does remember buying them for me when I was younger. Now, I wear them pretty much every day. I have alternatives, like a pair of Blundstones for when it’s cold and/or wet, a pair of Adidas slides, and a few others (Vans Authentics, Birkenstock Bostons, Salomon S-Labs, a pair of Phoebe-for-Celiné canvas lace-ups I found in a size 42 for a steal at Nordstrom Rack in Los Angeles), but I don’t wear them much. Hardly ever, really. Earlier this year I went to the Thom Browne show on the one snowy day of winter and sat next to a fellow fashion writer, who asked me about wearing Vans on a snowy day. They were a little wet, I guess, but I wasn’t bothered.

The rounded upper of the Vans slip-on is 4 inches across and 6.5 long (on a size 9.5), and that, to me, is a golden ratio — a holy, beautiful thing. Its easy toe curve is infallible, and goes well with pants that are tapered, baggy, slim, skinny, cropped, or long. It looks good with jeans or Carhartts, or chinos or even a suit, as my iconic king Frank Ocean demonstrated at a White House state dinner back in 2016 when he wore them with a navy one (I have since done this a few times myself, though admittedly Frank looked much cooler). They look good with shorts, worn with socks or sans. They’re a good value proposition at about $60ish and last for a good amount of time. For me, they accomplish what a great article of clothing should, at its core, do: make life easier. Now that I’m at the age where my friends are having kids, I often buy them as gifts for them because it is my true honor to give someone their first pair.

I remember a few years back a publicist arranged for me to have lunch in Los Angeles with Alex “2Tone” Erdmann, of the brand Born X Raised. I noted that we were both wearing Vans checkerboard slip-ons and he said, like me, he wears them a lot, because they exist outside of the vagaries of fashion — they do not adhere to the whims of trends, yet exist at a baseline level of acceptable cool. No one is going to think you’re chasing a trend when you wear them. They are spared of the whole Discourse™ surrounding some shoes like the Adidas Samba or New Balances. They have a certain amount of street cred, but also excuse the wearer from taking part in any big fashion statement. In their way, they’ve transcended fashion.

That hasn’t stopped plenty of people from trying to milk their cultural cachet, from Phoebe Philo’s dead-ringer at Celine made from pony hair (like, if Phoebe is ripping you off, you’re doing something right), to collaborations from brands ranging from Comme des Garçons to my personal favorite, Pilgrim Surf Shop, with a pennant design (still so sad I never got a pair of these). Recently, Proenza Schouler dropped a bubbly looking version ($200), which are very fun. Like Vans that hit the fillers needle a bit too hard.

Sneakers are at a tricky moment, it seems. After years of explosive growth, that market is softening, with loafers and slippers gaining ground. Meanwhile longtime stalwarts of the category — names like Nike, Adidas, and, indeed, Vans — are ceding ground to more performance-driven styles from upstarts like Hoka, Salomon and ON. Vans, in particular, appears to be having some trouble of late. In their most recent quarterly earnings report, their owner, VFC, revealed the brand is down 24% and recently brought in a new CEO to help right the ship. Meanwhile, Vans just brought in a Global Brand President named Michelle Sun Choe from Lululemon to help revive the brand.

Which is all, of course, interesting but doesn’t affect me. I notice no discernible difference in the amount of Vans I see on the streets, and I pay attention. A friend of mine recently pondered what it meant to dress our age (I am ageless, of course, but great question regardless), and I immediately thought of my Vans. Were they some teenage skater boy fantasy born of my Southern California upbringing that’s looking more ridiculous as I get older? Meh, I don’t care. I’ll keep wearing mine until I stop, and maybe that will be never. Maybe, like Frank Ocean, you’ll catch me wearing a suit with some Vans, as I’m lowered six feet in the ground. Maybe they’ll bury me with an extra, beat-up pair for any errands I have to run in the Great Beyond. It will be a fitting end to a life-long love affair.

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I recognize that there are people out there who, perhaps, are not adverse to change as I am. That, perhaps, have a pair of Vans but are interested in similar styles. Well you’re in luck, here is the original, of course, plus a few stellar alternatives that would be great to add to cart.

• Vans Slip-on, $55, vans.com

• The Row Dean Slip-on, $850, mrporter.com

• Stepney Workers Club Vulcanized Canvas Shoe, $130, stepneyworkersclub.com

• Loewe Paula’s Ibiza Terra Slip-on, $750, loewe.com

• Bottega Veneta Quilt Sneakers, $950, ssense.com