Spoiler: You should get some.
I have a pair of rose gold Sperrys, pictured, that I wear all the time (they are one of three pair of Sperrys in regular rotation, but I digress). I consider them beat up at this point and even occasionally call them my old man shoes because they have custom orthotics in them.
They also apparently make people fall in love with you.
Yesterday, we had a biometric screening at work (those lying liars said I’m only 5’8″). Upon spotting my gilded kicks, one of the nurses—who was wearing an embellished blazer, to be clear—exclaims, “Oh, girl, look at those shoes! We know what kind of girl you are!”
Yes, yes we do.
Naturally, I proceed to regale her with the following story:
My friend Cali and I were at a bar one night, and though I was wearing a tight dress that should have required them, I had changed out of my heels into the aforementioned orthotic-filled Sperrys to give my feet and legs a break for the remainder of our evening. Nothing exciting happens, I go home.
A few weeks later, we return to said bar—this time I am wearing a green sequin miniskirt, which has very little to do with the story except that I apparently wear sparkly, shiny shit at all times. A dude approaches Cali and says that he remembers me from a few weeks ago because of my gold shoes.
Being an excellent wingwoman, Cali brings said fella over to talk to me.
Another few weeks pass and we’re in the same bar again (don’t judge: we like what we like, okay?!), and the dude is there. His friend comes over and we’re all chatting when Dude says something to him and he exclaims, “Oh, YOU are ‘Gold Shoes’!!”
(In)famous.
Because of some old-man rose gold Sperrys.
Get some.