British Tan Shoes [Part 1 of my Fashion Trilogy]
An original poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro
Consider reading along to my Spoken Verse Performance.
INTRO
I don’t mind
If you call me
Metrosexual.
Just cause I’m
Wearing shoes which are
Exceptional.
Life’s too short
For footwear that’s bland.
That’s why…
I’m rockin’ British Tan.
VERSE 1
Old Swag sells sport shoes in Derby Town.
He also sells Dunham's, which win the comfort crown.
So on dress shoes I didn’t spend many dollars,
Cause Swag set me up nicely, in all three colors.
I had black, wine, and brown, which are always in vogue.
But while all had rounded toes, not one was a brogue.
VERSE 2
Now I yearn for cooler shoes in which to parade.
So I bought navy chukkas, and oxfords in grey suede.
My first wing tips were Cole Haans in drab olive green.
The next had neon soles. OK, I'm not a Marine.
And while that should satisfy the average man,
I still didn’t have anything in British Tan.
CHORUS
I don’t mind
If you call me
Metrosexual.
Just cause I’m
Wearing shoes which are
Exceptional.
Life’s too short
For footwear that’s bland.
That’s why…
I’m rockin’ British Tan.
BRIDGE #1
It’s mid-December, so I sat myself down
And mailed a letter to that North Pole town.
Reminding Santa that it’s not naughty
Sporting shoes which are a tad haughty.
Speaking of which, my soles are wearing thin.
So the men’s shoe department is where to begin,
Finding a reward for my being chaste,
In Las Vegas. Some would say that's a waste.
And while I always try to think about thrift,
That word does not apply when choosing my gift.
You can forget Saks Off Fifth, and the Nordstrom Rack,
Hell, all they had was camel and cognac.
I hit Off Broadway, like the shoe whore I am.
But their shades of brown didn’t pass my exam.
At Neiman's Last Call I pulled out my swatches,
Then their shoe salesmen started checking their watches.
They only had saddle at Burlington Coat Factory.
I even checked Goodwill, and the Salvation Army.
So Santa, be prepared to pay a king’s ransom,
If you hope to score the shoes which I find handsome.
Take a look at the toes, to insure they are burnished.
That's a must for the brogues which I am furnished.
If I had more inductions in the 'nice' list,
Goodyear welt construction is what I'd insist.
While 'perforations' may not sound very lyrical,
You'll need lots to complete this Christmas Miracle.
And so my kicks can cover all of the bases,
Might I request they have 3 different laces.
And, unless my stocking will be filled with coal,
I'd like to be walking on rubber tap soles.
Now Santa, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.
But if “British Tan” isn't on the label,
Of the box which holds my Yuletide Treat,
Please, be a peach, and include a gift receipt.
And if you really want my heart to melt,
Go ahead and throw in a matching belt. ;~)
CHORUS
I don’t mind
If you call me
Metrosexual.
Just cause I’m
Wearing shoes which are
Exceptional.
Life’s too short
For footwear that’s bland.
That’s why…
I’m rockin’ British Tan.
VERSE 3
I opened the shoe box, and felt like a toddler.
Could these be the work of a world class cobbler?
I chose socks with bold patterns, which I'm told are chic.
Then I rolled up my cuffs, to give the ladies a peak.
And the attention from the girls made me feel super.
Surely, this is what it's like to be Bradley Cooper?!?
VERSE 4
But then I noticed something which made me feel weird.
Nods and winks from the females AND guys with full beards.
But the glances from the guys were not flirtations.
Because what's behind them was admiration.
Saying "Nice kicks!", "Well done!" and "You da man!"
Well, I'm hoping most were from fellow footwear fans.
VERSE 5
Life was so much simpler, just last Spring.
Before fashion footwear became my thing.
Why was the Aria one of my stops?
Why did I stroll Crystals’ City Center shops?
Had misfortune found me, exploring Sin City?
Hell no, I’m thinking it was serendipity.
CHORUS
I don’t mind
If you call me
Metrosexual.
Just cause I’m
Wearing shoes which are
Exceptional.
Life’s too short
For footwear that’s bland.
That’s why…
I’m rockin’ British Tan.
BRIDGE #2
While it's not smart to talk about race.
It occurred to me this might be a case
Of whitey emulating the brother man.
But, in suede, the cobblers call it 'wheat'.
And IMHO it's not quite as sweet,
Or as stimulating as British Tan.
Now I'm not saying that my taste is better,
But try them on, and you'll see what I mean.
Then, like Stevie and Paul, we'll raise our voices together,
In a chorus of "God Save The Queen."
CHORUS
I don’t mind
If you call me
Metrosexual.
Just cause I’m
Wearing shoes which are
Exceptional.
Life’s too short
For footwear that’s bland.
That’s why…
I’m rockin’ British Tan.
BRIDGE #3
I've got a clever plan
For when I get older.
And feel The Reaper's hand
Rest upon my shoulder.
I'll glance at his footwear,
Then ask: "Walnut or British Tan?"
He'll grunt and then declare:
"Walnut. I'm an Allen Edmonds man!"
I'll say: "Dude, I knew it. Good taste I respect!
You know, we shoe whores should stick together."
But he sees right through it, in fact he suspects,
I'm wearing Phat Farm's, with synthetic leather.
I'll say: "Guess you've got me. What can I do?"
Wondering how he perceived my pretension.
But, he'd seen my finances, so he knew,
I could barely afford to pay attention.
The Reaper then suggests something more suitable.
But oxfords and chukkas are all that I own.
And I'm sad to say his logic's irrefutable.
Boots would be better in fire and brimstone.
And the moral of the story is...
Now boy and girls, spend more time in church pews.
Learning lessons about about love, and morality.
Don't spend your Sunday mornings polishing your shoes.
Even if, to British tan, you've got a partiality.
CLOSEOUT (borrowing heavily from John Miles' song "Music")
I’m not trying to disparage
Any other hue or style.
But a brogue in the tan that's British
Is the shoe which makes me smile.
THE END
Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2014. All rights reserved.