A few months ago I fell in love with a pair of Alden loafers I tried on at J Press. Yeah, I get it, I sound like a big girl saying I fell in love with a pair of shoes, but whatever. (THEY'RE MADE OF DEAD BULLS!!!! Does that help?) I didn't, however, fall in love with the price tag. Although they felt like a pair of fuzzy socks, and as I walked around the shop found myself wondering what they would feel like to sleep in, I was too insulted by the price tag to even entertain the idea of walking out of the door with them. I take that back, I did think of walking out the door... without paying for them, but the 85 year old associate looked awfully agile for his age and strangely prepared for such an ordeal. I fought the urge, slipped the pristine shoes back in their green box and made a face like I was sincerely considering the purchase. I love that the first thing I think of when looking at brand new, beautiful, handmade pieces made of top quality leather is, "I can't wait to wear the shit out of these so they look better." Sorry, craftsman.
ANYWAY, that was back story. The real message here pertains to the pair of Dexter loafers I found not two hours later at a vintage shop for less than twenty bucks -- no extra cost for buying them already "worn the shit out." And there were already pennies in them, one being my birth year. Serendipity? I shall call it so. Although Dexter might not come with the weighty trad-cred brought forth by Alden, they'll do me just fine.