There was one thing I wanted in Paris, besides all the cake I could fit in my mouth. A pair of adidas Originals Stan Smiths. The white ones; with the green at the back and on the tongue. They're the unofficial uniform of the city; I must have seen 100 people wearing them in the past 24 hours. Can I find a pair? No I cannot.
I saw them in French Elle two weeks ago (French Elle is like ordinary Elle, except with more leopard print, and a section on philosophers.) There was an article about bloggers and one of them had on a pair of white trainers with a green trim. I made a mental note to investigate further. On arriving in Paris yesterday, Printemps seemed like a good place to start. A gleaming, heaving temple of commerce, Printemps has a giant stand full of Christian Louboutin spike nail polishes in the foyer and from there it's all on. Prada, Bottega, Miu Miu, Proenza, Acne, Chanel. Every label you can imagine and a giant installation made entirely of Kenzo skirts. Between the bright white lights and the shining mirrors everywhere the illusion of having died and gone to shopping heaven is actively fostered in Printemps. By the time I passed the oligarchs being fawned over in Fendi, I wasn't sure if it was another world, or the underworld I'd stumbled into.
Shop Cool-Girl Shoes
The sneaker display is on the fourth floor and what a display it was. I think I saw a pair of Converse with feathers on. Of the simple white and green ones from French Elle though, there were none. I asked the boy behind the till: " Avez-vous les baskets blanches et verts? He smiled and stuck his foot out from behind the counter. Green and white and nicely battered, his were holding up. Try the internet, he said. Sold out. Everyone in Paris is wearing them. This was not hyperbole. Having dinner later in the ninth arrondissement, a chichi part of the city (think Ponsonby, with more smoking and dog shit) every second person who walked past had Stans on. Paris has a uniform and it's old school trainers. In the midst of feeling covetous, and a bit shamefaced at being late to the party, I had a little nostalgia buzz.
When I was 20 I spent a summer in London. It was 1998 and I wanted a pair of Buffalo Boots so bad. Remember Buffalo Boots? The giant clod-hoppers favoured by the Spice Girls came in many colours and looked like corrective footwear. Between Buffalos and the Union Jack dress, girl power had a lot to answer for. By September, I had saved enough to buy some. Mine were powder blue basketball boots with big puffy tongues. I walked out of that shop feeling six feet tall. Like a Londoner, although I wasn't. Like I belonged. Two decades later, and there's another cool-girl shoe around. But Paris can keep her Stans, it's no fun picking up a trend after everyone else has done. Although it would be interesting to try them back in Auckland if only to see if the lack of ubiquity makes them more or less cute.
