How in the world could you ever justify spending $500 or more on a pair of sneakers? That’s how I interpreted the question posed by the Wall Street fugitive, Khe Hy, when I saw this tweet:
Knowing Khe’s penchant for nuance, his question likely wasn’t as direct as my initial translation, but that’s how it hit me, and I was curious to see how others would respond. But first, let’s answer the question.
The shoe depicted is one half of a pair of Golden Goose sneakers, an Italian designer brand known for its beat-up appearance and outlandish price tag. The first time I saw them, I thought, “Oh, cool, a new line of [Converse] Chuck Taylors…” until I saw the price tag and responded, “What!?”
But back to the story. As I perused the responses to the tweet, I noticed that they were universally bashing the brand, while many were also judging the very character of those who’d choose to wear the shoes. It was almost as if there was a medicinal quality to the collective judgment of those who’d be wasteful, superficial, or attention-seeking enough to adorn their feet with a pair of Golden Goose tennis shoes.
I understand the sentiment. Especially as a financial advisor, I tend to look at material things and see a price tag rather than the item itself, and I’m prone to judging the purchaser. I know I’ve been driving through a neighborhood that was more expensive than mine, hearing one of my kids remark at how amazing a house was, and instead of responding, “Yes, it’s beautiful,” I remarked, “They probably have a ton of debt.” [Insert Debbie Downer noise.]
I know we’ve been wowed by an incredible sports car, only to punctuate our fascination with the wet-blanket commentary, “Yeah, but they probably have a huge car payment.”
So, I get the sentiment expressed toward the outrageously-priced, beat-up shoes. But.
I also have a pair.
You see, the first time I remember seeing a pair of Golden Goose shoes, I was with my now wife. We were in that blissful phase of dating where everything felt pretty dreamy, yet things were getting serious enough that we were starting to make not-so-veiled allusions to a more permanent future together.
After we both had the eye-popping experience of looking at the price tag on the shoes, I wondered aloud what type of occasion it might take to justify such a purchase, hinting at the possibility of a “big day” in our future.
Sure enough, after we got engaged and set a date, we built our wedding attire from the feet up, both wearing a pair of distressed Golden Goose high tops at the altar. To this day, they are still my most prized article of clothing. I wear them constantly, ever reminded of the meaningful moment I first saw them, and the trip we made after our engagement when we went back to the store to buy them.
They are worth so much more than I paid.
Wedding Shoes
An amazing quote that is most often attributed to Teddy Roosevelt, suggests that “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
And oh, how true this is. Most of what you’ll read on the soul-sucking danger of comparison refers to not feeling diminished by comparing what you don’t have that someone else might—but we also suffer unnecessarily when we condescend to or judge those who’ve chosen to purchase something that we haven’t.
Writing for the Albert Ellis Institute, Magda Murawska explains, “The danger of comparing ourselves to others is that our comparisons are never fair. Each one of us is a unique individual with characteristics and life events that are unique to only us.”
Comparisons are never fair because we each have our own stories, a confluence of events and emotions. And the seed of bitterness that plants itself within us every time we judge only harms us. So, the next time we are tempted to judge someone, whether for something they have or something they don’t, let’s consider the possibility that there might just be a great story behind that purchase or abstinence.
And we’re probably better off staying focused on our own story anyway.
(Special thanks to Khe Hy for the inspiration and for his blessing to use his tweet as the foundation for this post.)