Apologies to vegans everywhere, but my mother always taught me never to wear shoes that aren’t made of real leather. So, sneakers, with their proliferation of wondrous synthetic “tech” fibres, have never been a feature of my shoe rack. And having taken heed of that wisdom for 36 years and counting, my trotters are still in pretty good shape. Of course, I’m aware this is not 1992 and there’s a full bevy of plush (real leather) iterations of trainer out there, but the truth is, I’ve just always felt like I’m in another man’s shoes when I slip on a pair.

To me, sneakers are most suited to the tennis court or running track. And when they are worn out of an athletic locale, they’re best reserved for the months when you’re not playing metrological roulette with the weather gods. But as soon as fair weather arrives, I prefer to get my pasty feet out of their leather-clad confinement and give them a good airing – and what’s better for that than a good pair of sandals?

Sandals ooze that warm, fuzzy holiday vibe – like the first bittersweet sips of an Aperol spritz quaffed on a sunny piazza – so I’ve never understood the fear some men have of showing a little toe cleavage. It just makes sense to give your feet some breathing space when the mercury’s on the up. I mean wearing socks with sandals in the name of “fashion” is one thing, but sockless sneakers in summer? Do keep your kicks well away from my snout – that’s a violation of the basic tenets of hygiene in my book.

I also don’t queue for anything if I can help it. Life is too short to stand in line. So I find the limited-edition hysteria of the cult sneaker realm rather perplexing. While I do appreciate the artistry of sneaker design, the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn to join a rugby scrum outside a storefront to bag a pair of sneakers with a fuchsia-pink tongue is complete anathema to me. Someone ought to pay you a considerable sum for that – not the other way around.

In addition, I’ve long felt one of the merits of menswear is its “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” mentality. For traditional cordwainers like Edward Green and George Cleverley – which have resisted jumping on the sneaker band wagon and stuck to their Goodyear-welted guns – their creations will be around long after you’ve laid your low-tops to rest.

But don’t get me wrong in the wake of my fusty ramblings about the hallowed sneaker. I’m not the sort of chap who sleeps in Oxfords, as my fondness for open-toe footwear attests. I just have the same affinity for a pair of Dries Van Noten tread-sole loafers or Marni Fussbett sandals the way a stalwart sneakerhead has for their Triple Ss and New Balance 920s. Seasonal shifts willing, you’ll be seeing me on the Central line with my toes out, very soon.

Since the turn of 2022, I’ve been making a conscious effort to be less stubborn. So far, eschewing inflexible ways of thinking has only had a positive impact on my life. I disclose this information before building my case as I guarantee some of you more mulish readers have already sided with the opposition. If the shoe fits, I urge you to follow in my Swoosh-embossed footsteps and keep your mind open – or, at the very least, slightly ajar – while reading the below. I promise it’ll serve you well, just like a pair of sneakers would if you gave them a chance.

I start by spitting facts: sneakers are comfortable; shoes are not. I truly and utterly loathe copping – does one cop a monk strap? – and rocking the kind of traditional shoes that caused our forebears to develop hammertoe. (NB: I don't know who needs to read this, but no flex is worth developing deformities for.) They’re just so, well, uncomfortable. My buttery soft, blister-free ankles thank me every day for circumventing such footwear.

Sneakers, on the other hand, are soft, bouncy and shock-absorbent. At least, the 70-plus pairs that I own are. Some silhouettes – such as the Yeezy 700, a sneaker bolstered by adidas’ pioneering Boost technology – are so comfortable that they provide a walking-on-clouds sensation. Now, tell me, honestly, what dress shoe feels just as good as it looks?

That brings me to my second point. Sneakers look great with everything. For example, Air Force 1s – I’m talking white lows, naturally – marry just as well with suits (see Mr Justin Bieber’s Met Gala 2021 look) as they do with tee-and-sweats combos, making them a far wiser investment than, say, an Oxford.

While non-believers will struggle to attack the versatility of sneakers, they’re instead bound to push the archaic notion that sneakers are not apt for boujee settings. Yawn. Frankly, if sneakers – and, to be clear, I’m talking looks-the-business leather kicks, not Crocs – are forbidden in an establishment, I probably don’t want to be there, anyway.

Above all, the reason why I ride for sneakers is because they’re a lingua franca that allows people of all backgrounds and ages to bond. It’s not uncommon for a coveted-crep-prompted nod of respect to lead to a sincere friendship. They’re an icebreaker of sorts. I refuse to believe that mules – unless crafted Mr Jonathan Anderson (who, FYI, lives in running shoes) – offer the same sense of community.

Now, I leave things in your hands – or, should I say, feet – for you to decide which path you will tread. Will you a) spend the rest of your days broke, alone and in pain for the sake of upholding antediluvian conventions, or b) secure a pair of Yeezys, live your best life and thank me later?