Ah, that new-shoe smell.
I was in Grand River Running the other day because there was a sale. I didn’t particularly need new shoes, the ones I just bought only have about 150km on them. But like buying things at Costco, we all know you stock up on your must-haves when they’re cheap. Besides, I love being able to rotate my shoes.
So anyway, there was another couple in the store; he was trying on shoes and she was sitting patiently on a bench; whether this was because she already chose hers, or just didn’t need any (or wasn’t a runner at all), was unclear. The manager was helping them. When the fellow was walking around in a pair, the manager turned to me.
“Did you need some help?” he asked me. We have this strange relationship, he and I. I always talk to him as if we know each other; he always humours me.
“I already know what I’m after…” I told him the model and size. In one swift motion he turned, and as if by magic, he had the box in his hand, open so I could catch a whiff.
“Perfect. And they’re green! The pair I have is blue, so I will be able to tell them apart with a glance.” I put them on. Yup, perfect.
There’s just something about new shoes. The crinkle of the hard tissue paper, the white bits are so clean they nearly glow, the coloured parts look almost metallic. This won’t last long, which oddly enough is also good, but for now I enjoy them. That and the smell. It’s probably toxic, but really, when will a pair of running shoes ever smell that good again? Probably never.
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