When I was in fifth grade it was decided by a committee of my teacher and my parents that I could graduate from Velcro sneakers to footwear with laces. At the time these canvas sneakers that went high up on the ankle were very popular. It was like all the kids wanted to pretend they were in the 1950s and helping Marty McFly get back to the future.
The canvas sneakers that I bought were turquoise in color, and after the newness of the sneakers wore off I indulged in the custom of writing on your sneakers. Along with laced sneakers, I had also graduated to pens instead of pencils, which was good because it is hard to write on canvas sneakers in pencil.
Most other boys my age who wore the same style of sneaker had written on their sneakers “I love” and then the name of their girlfriend, or “I” and then the shape of a heart and then the name of their girlfriend. I, being far too absorbed in my quest for the lowest common denominator, had no time for girlfriends, and so wrote on my sneakers “I love toxic waste.” Somehow my parents, who had paid for the sneakers, did not appreciate my use of irony.
The following year ushered in the reign of the Nike Air. This was a sneaker made of leather but with a little plastic bubble in the side that was allegedly filled with air. I was sure that the sneakers would make me float and deliver me from the clutches of the gangs that roamed the hallways of the middle school kicking the backs of students’ feet while they walked. Oh how I was disappointed to find that the Nike Airs respected the law of gravity, although the gang members were impressed by my insecure obsession with fitting in.
And then came the Reebok Pump.
Yes, my first understanding of the word “pumps” in relation to footwear was not high-heeled women’s shoes, but rather sneakers that had an inflatable pouch inside the tongue. There was a bright orange rubber button at the end of the tongue that one would push repeatedly, particularly during class, to inflate the tongue, giving a more snug fit and greater basketball dunking capability.
The price of the sneakers was even more impressive than the inflatable tongue. At well over $100 a pair, perhaps even as much as $200, the Pumps were as unattainable for me as Z Cavaricci pants. I remember writing my Bar Mitzvah speech on the Exodus from Egypt, while fantasizing that I would receive enough money to buy a pair of Reebok Pumps and Z Cavariccis, and then stroll the hallways at my school and earn the kind of superficial respect of my peers that you see only in B-movies from the 1980s.
But the Reebok Pumps were not all fun and games. There were reports of people who pumped the Reebok Pumps so much that they cut off the circulation to their feet, which then had to be amputated, and replaced with Prosthetic Pumps.
And there were reports of people being mugged for their Pumps. How difficult it must have been to deflate and untie one’s sneakers at gun point, and then have to hold the gun while the mugger put on the sneakers and pumped them.
For me, however, the Reebok Pumps remained a fantasy. At first I told myself that the price was too high, and that I was much better of selling my family’s cow for beanstalk beans than a pair of sneakers. But I think the real reason was that I did not see myself as a pumper of sneakers. In fact, it turns that I am not even a fan of high-top sneakers at all. Today I walk the Earth in a pair of low-top loafers that can be removed easily at the threshold of my home lest the freshly swiffered floor be smudged. The shoes are dark brown and non-descript, and say absolutely nothing about their wearer except that he loves toxic waste.
17 thoughts on “Remember High Top Sneakers?”
MarKap! So glad to see you here! I remember Reebok Pumps, and I am here to tell you that those she’s were for dorks. Seriously. Your parents, I mean you were very fashion forward in accepting your low top fate. Because nothing screamed “loser” louder than a boy in Reeboks. You just couldn’t tell him. You know, because he’d probably kill you.
These days there are sooooo many choices in sneakers, I actually dread going shopping with my son. I’ll drag my feet and eventually tell my husband, “Just Do It” — you know like Nike.
Off to tweet ya. Thanks for coming to my place this morning. I’ve been having itsurapok moments, just waiting for your posts to show up! So glad you are here today.
Glad you are here too. I’m glad my parents didn’t buy in to every footwear fad that came our way. I hope you won’t either.
Never! He shall wear Converse forever. Or go barefoot.
(laughing) I especially love the last paragraph!
Thanks! I always like the big finale.
This brings back so many memories! I was working at The Finish Line for a summer job when the Reebox Pumps came out. So many were returned later that year because the pump stopped pumping. Be happy you didn’t shell out the $100 bucks for those!
If I had been crazy enough to shell out that money in those days and the pump stopped working I would’ve sued for pain and suffering.
Pumps were not allowed in my house. I should call my dad right now and thank him for that. But i did have red canvas high tops with tweety bird on the sole. And I have my Senior picture (that yes, includes the bottom of my shoe) to prove it.
Tweety birds are okay. I’ve never heard of someone getting mugged over that. And commend your father for putting his foot down about the pumps.
Reblogged this on saritanag.
Thank you for the reblog – going to check it out on your site now.
When my daughter was in high school, a friend of hers drew cartoons all over her tennis shoes. They even named both of the shoes, on the toe. I can’t remember both names, but one was “Alfred Lord Tennisshoe”.
I can’t believe it! Just last night I was reading Tennyson’s “The Holy Grail.” You have to believe me. What a coincidence. I can only imagine what might have been written on Lord Tennisshoe: Half a pump, half a pump, half a pump outward…Who would buy sneakers that cost over a hundred?…Sneakers with the tops so high…Kids prepared to whine and cry…Parents but to do and buy…
She just emailed me the name of the other shoe–“Grou-shoe Marx”!
This one is awesome, I remember all of those shoes, and of course the jeans. I Never was able to attain a pair of pumps either, but remember feeling vindicated when all of my friend’s pumps gaveway (blew out) on their shoes in the summer following school year rendering them merely sneakers with an odd orange usless button on them.
Thank you. He who lives by the pump, shall die by the pump.