I wear Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars, you wear Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars, everybody wears Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars. What started out as a humble basketball shoe has now bloomed across the world, sweeping up thousands in its casual, wear-with-anything cool. Whether you've got an old pair in the back of your closet or every limited edition preserved behind glass, surely there's a pair of Converse — or an obsessive Converse-wearer — somewhere in your past.
And the Converse options are practically endless. Is your spirit animal the classic black high-top? Dare you go the glittery route, like Michelle Obama? What about neon? Patterns? No, those are tacky, right? White vs. off-white: discuss. Choosing a pair of Converse is almost as important as deciding on your “wedding colors” when you're a 12-year-old girl. It defines you.
Me? Let's just say I've owned several different colors of Converse, I like my Converse d-e-s-t-r-o-y-e-d (like, Achilles'-heel-is-showing destroyed), and I already know that my next pair of Converse will be classic, sleek, low-top, and pure white. Yeah, you could say I'm something of an expert on the psychology behind Converse colors; e.g., I know exactly why you opted for bright green. Let me break it down for you.
Everyone and her mother can tell that you're into classics. Originals. First editions. But perhaps you're a little too set in your ways? You pair your scuffed black Chucks with skinny jeans and a Ramones t-shirt, just like the Ramones did, and honestly, people are getting a little tired of the way you talk about Beck's new album like it's the second coming of Beck. Shake up your image by drawing hearts along the white part of the sole, like you're back in middle school.
You know that red shoes are a little bit dangerous, and you don't care. They're just so comfortable! You're probably a power-walker, but you could stand to be a little more considerate of other people's personal space. Just because your feet are overly confident doesn't mean your elbows have to be, too.
You're the posterchild for the fine line between alternative and classic. These grass-green Chucks are already part of our cultural imagination, but they're still something of an anomaly in the footwear world. And that's so cool. You loathe the cliché, but thrive on underrated classics. You're currently reading Tender is the Night.
You're someone who knows how to work a weird aesthetic. Nobody knows why these milky Converse are so popular, with their yellowish body and whiter soles, but you like the fact that they're kind of hideous. After all, who's the one that found the mustard-colored Grandpa sweater in the dumpster behind Great American Bagel? You did. You.
You don't wear shoes to “wear shoes,” you wear them to get where you're going: a damp, smoky bar filled with spoken word performers. Yeah, that's right, you're a poet, at least in your heart, and gray will always be your favorite neutral. After all, it's the color of storm clouds, and twilight, and your own inner tears.
It's time to admit that you're clinging to the image you so carefully cultivated in high school: “I'm just one of the boys, BUT I'M SO CUTE!” Pink Chucks try a little too hard to have it both ways, and the result is saccharine central. You probably don't have the money to buy a new pair, since you just spent all your cash on spring break.
Ya big freak. It took you forever to find these orange Chucks, since you don't shop online, but once you did, they've rarely left your feet. You're into sports, but as neither player nor fan; you're just curious about large expenditures of energy. Passion really gets you going, but you're awkward in large groups.
You're an extremely sincere person who wants to live a happy, well-fulfilled life, but you keep accidentally making huge mistakes. Example: buying yellow Converse. The idea is so sunny, so cute, so well-intentioned, but the second you tried to take a “spontaneous walk in the rain,” you learned that when yellow canvas gets dirty, it gets gross.
Yes, we know, you finally bought tickets to Coachella this summer. All your friends appreciate your earnest free-spirit shtick, but they want to tell you that it's a little misguided. Why won't you just admit that at Coachella, people wear rainboots? Why do you keep pairing your neon kicks with hair chalk? You have no idea what actually went down at Woodstock, only that it was “so liberating,” but it's okay, because everyone loves you anyway.
You honestly didn't think twice about color psychology before buying these. You just liked how they looked. You're generally a little distracted; you have a uniform without really realizing that you have a uniform; and you write really great song lyrics when you're supposed to be studying.
You've got a little Mercury in you, you fleet-footed traveler. These Chucks make you feel like you're walking on clouds, and you move accordingly — as fast and lightly as possible. Don't get discouraged when they eventually fall apart.
LIMITED EDITION COLLABORATION
You take your Converse-wearing very seriously, probably own an Wacom tablet, and have been shaking your heard throughout this entire article because the analysis is so misguided. For example, everyone knows poets wear yellow Chucks: the color of the sun, life force, and the piles of gold they will never get to see. P.S. You wear plastic bags over your shoes when it rains.