At the risk of sounding a bit too blunt, I want to make a case for ‘lack of style’. These thoughts have been with me for some time and while they’re nice and niche to chat over a coffee or an intellectually studded environment, it’s really down to business when you’re out in the open with an outfit on that you hate and actually would never wear out in front of people. This is the kind of high-intensity example I recently found myself in. (disclaimer: if you have never felt discomforted by what you have worn out in public, you can skip this read)

A few days ago I was rushing out the door and while my overall outfit was a solid 7/10, I forgot to change out of my bathroom slippers. These slippers are not nearly as glamorous as your Havianas or what have you— they are 2 sizes too big, orthopedic slides passed onto me after my late aunt. I wear them because they feel amazing on my acutely flatfooted arches but I am now sitting in my car with my foot on the brakes thinking, “hmmm what feels different on the pedal…”?

At the traffic signal, I have a daunting realisation that I am indeed in these shoes which I absolutely despise the look of and which can never be redeemed even for a ‘quirky’ look. With each passing kilometer, a sense of panic and doom starts to settle in because I was planning to run some errands and perhaps stop to get my nails done—all places that had a fairly high chance of bumping into people I knew. I was too far from home to go change and I quickly understood that I was stuck with this hospital-esque footwear that was very, not me.

Wait a second.

I think I actually braked at that thought. What was that supposed to mean.