I’m on the fence when it comes to Suicoke sandals. I’m doubly on the fence when it comes to J Crew. So where these collaborative velcro numbers are concerned, I’m on a fence, on top of a fence, on a fence.
Suicoke just creep into the acceptable brand camp because, well, even though they crop up too frequently in the indie-retail mix, you never actually see anyone in them. J Crew on the other hand… It’s where city boys’ wives go. It’s where people who love Made furniture go. It’s struggling to find an audience and being suffocated by corporate debt. It’s doing preppy, still. It’s a high street shop so help me lord.
So, as you can imagine, it’s extremely difficult for me to type the following words: I really like these Suicoke X J Crew sandals.
Thing is, when should brand prejudice get in the way of you liking something? Normally, I’d say 100% of the time. I don’t care whether an X Factor contestant is hailed as the greatest living musician by Thom Yorke, Phillip Glass and a reanimated George Gershwin. The X Factor association kills it. Here though, well, just look, look at that spiffy brown and green. If these were in The Bureau, or Superdenim or Norse Store I’d be all over them. But as I’ve already made clear, they’re not. And I’m not.
Your call. Sandals are mad tricky in the first place. Obviously you’d have to roll with socks (men’s feet are so stomach churning I’m surprised they don’t use a picture of a pair on the side of fag packets) but then you’d look like a proper bellpiece when the sun is roaring. And then add to this the conundrum around the appropriateness of a high street brand cosign. So there you go… I’ve just talked myself out of these. I’ve just fallen off three fences.