My youngest son has got some WACKY taste in shoes. He needed some new ones . . . and this is what he picked out. Patent leather and purple, the craziest pair in the entire warehouse-sized store. I'm thinking that since it is close to the end of the year he might get away with them at school, but it will be a stretch.
By the way, this is my youngest, who just turned eleven, and we are shopping men's shoes. We have left the children's department forever. No more balloons, friendly sales people to put the shoes on your feet, press on your toes to determine fit, and no more small prices to match small shoes. We are in the department with deep leather chairs where tall dudes with giant feet shop. Sigh. Another milestone.
My husband insists my son's taste in shoes comes from me. It's true. I admit it. If it came from my husband, my son would be wearing penny loafers.