Style has always been my signature – equal parts comfort and self-expression. My first Converse All Stars, bought in the 80s at an Indiana mall, were teal with a lemon-yellow interior. I wore them everywhere – from my wedding day to long walks through Rome, Chicago, and Mumbai. They weren’t just shoes; they were part of who I was. Alongside Fly London boots, they carried me through life with character and confidence.
Then, at 41, I was diagnosed with young onset Parkinson’s disease.
Everything shifted. Parkinson’s brought with it dystonia – painful, involuntary muscle contractions – in my back, hands, feet, and ankles. Walking became a minefield: my toes curled involuntarily, my ankles buckled, and familiar shoes became traps. The light, flexible soles of my beloved Converse triggered pain. The stylish wedge of my Fly boots turned treacherous. Even orthotics didn’t help. My identity, once stitched into the seams of my favorite outfits, began to unravel.
A chance airport conversation changed everything. A fellow passenger with mobility challenges recommended Nike tactical boots – stiff-soled, ankle-supporting – and they gave me a new way to walk. I moved on to Nike Dunk Highs. It was a revelation. I was no longer dressing for nostalgia, but for strength and support.
Still, I couldn’t let go of the past easily. My closet overflowed with memories – shoes I couldn’t wear, clothes I could no longer tolerate. A friend nudged me towards Vinted. Reluctantly, I listed pieces that hindered my movement. To my surprise, buyers responded with warmth. Some shared their own stories of change, of finding new ways to be themselves. One day, I listed my Converse. The grey pair sold first. I included a note to the buyer – a farewell letter, really – explaining what those shoes meant to me.
Her reply, full of kindness, reminded me that identity evolves. She, too, was a Converse devotee. She understood.
Now, I wear what supports me – physically, emotionally. Funky shirts. Long jackets. Shoes that ground me. I’ve learned to dress not just for style, but for survival and self-respect. Parkinson’s changed how I move through the world – but not my passion for fashion. It taught me how to let go, and how new connections can help carry us forward.