Before Nike, Adidas, and all the other multinational companies convinced us we were one pair of runners away from Olympic glory, we had these.
The humble plimsoll.
A black canvas shoe with a rubber sole that cost next to nothing and came as part of your school PE kit. There wasn’t an air pocket, carbon plate, or shock absorption system anywhere near it. If there was any performance enhancement at all, it was the elastic across the front that stopped it falling off.
Nobody wore plimsolls by choice. They were what you put on for forty minutes of PE, then couldn’t get them off quickly enough before walking home. If your mother caught you wearing them outside school, she’d assume your proper shoes had been stolen.
Then along came Dunlop Green Flash.
Now there was a shoe with status. Every sporty child wanted a pair. They looked fast even when you were standing still. Unfortunately, Green Flash money didn’t always stretch to Green Flash shoes.
I had Blue Flash.
The budget version.
They were perfectly good shoes, but every child in the playground knew the difference. It was a bit like turning up in a Ferrari… only to discover it was actually a Fiat with sporty hubcaps.
Back then, sports shoes were for sport. It sounds like an extraordinary idea now, but nobody wore them to the shops, to church, or to visit your granny. If you did, she’d probably ask why you hadn’t time to put your proper shoes on.
Somewhere in the 1980s the whole thing changed.
Teenagers started wearing runners all the time. The strange thing was that many of them had no obvious interest in sport. Their daily exercise consisted of eventually coming downstairs after their mother shouted, “Breakfast!” for the third time.
Then the adults joined in.
The marketing people at Nike, Adidas, and the rest deserve honorary degrees in psychology. They’ve convinced us that every year we need another pair because this one has better cushioning, improved energy return, and space-age foam developed after years of scientific research.
Scientific research for what exactly?
The weekly trip around Lidl?
Running from the rain into Tesco?
The frantic dash back to the car because you’ve forgotten where you parked?
Basketball runners amuse me most of all. They’re designed for giant American athletes who spend half the match airborne before landing with the force of a small meteorite.
Here they’re worn by people whose biggest jump of the day is stepping over the dog.
Apparently, up to 80% of sports shoes are bought by people who’ll never play the sport they were designed for. Yet every advert still shows impossibly fit young people sprinting up mountains or leaping across rooftops.
They never show the reality.
A middle-aged man standing in the queue at Lidl with a chicken sandwich, a carton of milk and a pair of €140 runners that have never travelled faster than the moving walkway at Dublin Airport.
Not everyone falls for it, of course.
Every Thursday morning Aldi and Lidl become wildlife documentaries.
Watch carefully and you’ll spot the bargain hunter stalking the middle aisle, examining runners that bear an astonishing resemblance to famous brands, provided you don’t examine them too closely.
“They’re made in the same factory,” they’ll whisper.
Of course they are.
And George Clooney cuts my grass.
The funniest example of how ridiculous it all is was outside a hotel after a wedding ceremony. The bride had spent a fortune on a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes with those famous red soles. She made it as far as the reception entrance, kicked them off with a look of utter relief, and slipped into a pair of white runners.
The photographer looked horrified.
The bride looked as if she’d just been released from prison.
Maybe that’s the secret. We all claim runners are about comfort, and they are. Until six months later they’re impossible to clean, have collapsed sideways, and are officially promoted to gardening shoes.
Then, as if by magic, we need another pair.
Those marketing people really do deserve a medal. They’ve persuaded an entire generation to spend €200 on shoes specially designed for running…
…so we can wear them to sit down.
