The Footpatrol Campus and the Lodger Monk shoe have many obvious similarities – both are reinterpretations of classic designs with reserved asymmetry and on-point detailing. But it wasn’t anything inherent in the shoes that made me want to put them together.

Last week, I entered the Crooked Tongues competition to win 52 pairs of trainers (still open here) and one of the questions (mercifully few in number) was “[what's your] favourite sneaker store?”

My answer had to be Footpatrol.

From 2002, 16A St Anne’s Court in Soho, London was home to the most select sneakers and footwear. And for those who knew Footpatrol, the fact that it closed back in March 2008 won’t preclude it from consideration in any list of great sneaker outlets; exceptional staff and a stream of great collaborations meant the place was without a genuine rival and truly unforgettable.

So, in remembrance of the store and with London becoming all too grey recently (which, for most people, quite wrongly connotes the dismal: old age, Man United away kit 95-96, the bland, Gordon Brown) it seems proper to match-up the Grey FP Campus 80s and the Lodger Monk shoe.

The adidas Campus, having earned its reputation from the BBoys of the eighties, was one of the most iconic sneakers of its time. The Footpatrol version has a suede upper and tonal snakeskin stripes on the inside, providing asymmetry not unlike the Lodger Monk Shoe with its buckle strap. Both shoes are clean designs with just the right amount of variation to avoid being either a corruption of a classic or insufficient to constitute actual change.

Although I started this post with the seductive idea of free sneakers it seems the shoes I really covet are now only available at a savage cost on ebay or not at all, which reminds me of, and adds validity to, a Scott Roeben quote: “Sex is like Art. Most of it is pretty bad, and the good stuff is out of your price range.”

Of the many derogatory terms people use about footwear, ‘gimmicky’ is the one I understand least. In jest, I recently said to my sister that “the red soles on Christian Louboutin’s shoes are a shameless gimmick” and left the discussion feeling like a trainee carpenter had given me a vasectomy.

A feature like a gentleman’s corner – the missing section on the inside of the heel designed to prevent a trouser hem from catching – doesn’t just distinguish Lodger shoes from other brands but acts as a homage to a bygone era of shoemaking and reflects a design ideology.

Some of my favourite trainers of 2009 have, what appear to be, uniquely and deliberately marketable features. The CT Superstar 80s come with a set of removable tongues –originally seen on their BK3 adicolor Century Lo (May 2006) – and the Solebox Reebok ERS 2000s have rather fragrant orange scented insoles…

Altering any part of a shoe, classic or otherwise, might not make sense to everyone but doing so expands ideas of what is possible. Innovations, variations and reinterpretations, regardless of motive, intention, or success, are the principal ways a creative industry moves forward and as such should be applauded.

Now, as I hear a symphony of chisels and saws play in my head, I’m off to apologise to my implacable sibling. Wish me luck.

A friend, dating a woman with the distinct look of a bunny-boiler-to-be, is relentlessly forced to celebrate petty and obscure anniversaries. I empathise; the psycho-siren and the sneaker brand share the same distasteful appetite.

Few things annoy me as much as anniversary-coercion. It’s primitive to think the relative position of the earth and sun should induce a feeling of generosity. I am fortunate to have a few people in my life that (bizarrely) want to buy me gifts, but I’d like the gift giving to come from an organic desire rather than compulsion by astronomical circumstance. The gifts are invariably better as well.

And, as a fellow shoe obsessive once said, what’s true in life is true in footwear. Celebrating its 30th anniversary, the adidas Top Ten has seen several versions released that lack the brilliance of the February 2008 “1979” version. That shoe (pictured above) has yet to be bettered.

It was a triple collaboration with Undefeated (UNDFTD) and photographer Estevan Oriol and produced a trainer that keeps on giving. Accompanied by a handsomely bound photo essay book, the sneaker has lots of precise detailing including a basketball-like upper, gold coloured lace jewels and eyelets, and a transparent sole finishing.

All of which create natural pairing with Lodger’s Desert boot (also pictured above).

Just as the Top Ten made the cross-over from sports shoe to stoop shoe, the desert boot made the inevitable move from warfare to Mayfair. A clean two piece pattern, beautifully simple lines in biscuit suede and remarkably comfortable due to its unstructured, unlined upper - the desert boot is my preferred choice for all manner of occasions.

Don’t wait for a birthday to buy a pair!

Why do shoe brands think people want to design footwear?

Whatever name it goes by (a Mongolian BBQ isn’t just a buffet!) the big trainer brands all have uninspiringly similar facilities that allow you to design your own shoe, something I have no desire to engage in for the following three reasons.

Firstly, it’s a lie. They don’t really let you design a shoe. No brand lets you tweak the actual design: Thinner sole? No. Lower upper? No. Put a shelltoe on a Dunk? Hell no. Nike Bespoke at 21 Mercer Street offers the most variables, with a plethora of colour and material options allowing you to customize 31 parts of the shoe. But that shoe has to be an Air Force 1.

Secondly, there’s no reason to suppose I have any talent. Being a vast consumer of a product doesn’t automatically render me a good producer of that product. I happen to eat like a Trojan with a tape worm but I cook like a pyromaniac with a flamethrower. Neither does being a good judge. It’s only the perverted few that would want to hear Simon Cowell sing.

Thirdly, I’m pretty sure there are enough shoes that are out already or soon to be dropping that I want to buy. Samba shuttlecocks, SNS Tretorns, Swaggers, Superstar 80s 3-Ways, Sauconys, Supra Skytops, Scandeezys… alliteration aside - it doesn’t end!

Maybe I’m missing the point. People like to personalise the things they own and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I would repeat Wodehouse’s sentiments: “I thought the practice was reserved for those who are in danger of forgetting their name?”

Why hasn’t high-street fashion moved on with technology?

The US Rubber Company (one of the original 12 stocks on the Dow Jones Industrial Average) started Keds, which produced the world’s first mass market sneaker in 1917. Yet you’re more likely to see a pair in London now than 80 years ago. The same is true for the ubiquitous Converse All Star, which may well have been a pioneering basketball sneaker back in the twenties but has since become a staple of everyone and anyone, including those who think the NBA is a gun club (they’re not entirely wrong).

So why don’t we want more high-tech shoes? I don’t think it’s merely the obvious answer that style is more important to people than comfort (which it clearly is). It also has a lot to do with the more obvious answer that comfort is a greater function of fit than of trainer technology.

Whereas fit requirements are relatively unique, comfort requirements are relatively universal. Personal example: I’ve got feet like a hobbit’s, and although that’s great for walking barefoot in the Shire it means that every time I wear narrow kicks like All Stars I get blisters the size of golf balls. However, I can wear my Goodyear-welted brogues all day, all week and feel great because I had my feet scanned and wear a pair that fits perfectly.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that fashion hasn’t moved on because it hasn’t needed to. People will keep buying Keds, Cons, Waffles etc and Nike will keep bringing out new colourways of the Jordan 1 (the world’s best technology circa 1980) because they look great. You don’t need Air, Torsion or ERS technology to walk to Sainsbury’s in the morning even if there’s always a pack of hooded 16-year olds at the entrance looking at you like you’ve got their meal ticket. (They’re not entirely wrong).

A few months back I fell deeply in love with a pair of Patta x Asics Gel Lyte Speeds (the purple colourway with the Eric Elms artwork). But wearing them to a mate’s dinner party got me an obscene look from the hostess and a steak that would most aptly be described as cremated.

Kicking and screaming, I entered the world of ‘gentlemen’s footwear’. It’s a bleak place where it can be a tough task to try and find a shoe that doesn’t make you feel like an actuary at a job interview. But I’ve found a good few leather shoes that I love and actually have quite a few parallels with my favourite sneakers.

I know it’s a darker tone than my beloved Pattas but my favourite Lodger shoe is the purple suede slip-on. It has a super-fine suede upper that makes it feel just as light and comfortable as the Gel Lyte Speeds. They also look great with washed or raw denim and I can tolerate wearing them with grey trousers (only when I have to!).