Belgian Shoes are like the Smiths. At first they’re intimidating, impenetrable and alarmingly twee. An older friend, who’s a partisan, likes them and assures you that they are in fact vital, singular and even fierce. Once you accept them into your life you can’t believe you ever had doubts. Or something like that anyway. 

I was long fascinated and slightly alarmed by Belgians. Glenn O’Brien wore them well, but he did many things mere mortals couldn’t pull off. Aaron Levine wore his in a more muscular way, not dandyish at all. One day back when I worked in the advertising department (a job that Glenn incidentally helped me get, since he edited the BG magazine at the time), I walked over to the Belgian store. My moment had arrived.

What did I find there? Well, it was surprisingly understated, even drab. The staff was more interested in Upper East Side ladies who were buying many pairs. They were less interested in younger downtown men about to make a commitment for the first time. The shoes were expensive then and they’re even more now (an ice cold $490, which is really tough to take). 

I went in headlong. I wore them often and with purpose. Aaron made me acknowledge that he helped pave the way, which I happily admitted (and not for the last time, since I got the tragically discontinued unlined loafer Alden made for Brooks Brothers—thank you Mr. Levine!). Once they were really broken in then I wore them everywhere, even to the beach or hotel pools. Belgian heaven is when you can disregard them. The irony is that they’re so expensive that that makes it very hard. 

I replaced these. I returned to the store when I signed the book deal for “Men and Style”—it seemed properly decadent. The store hadn’t changed. The service was still predictably awful. I’ve tried to find alternatives, which I’ve written about here, and have even dabbled in some Chinese knockoffs, which is a story for another time. They all have their finer points, but there really is something specific to the old Mr. Casual model of Belgians. They’re light, soft, diabolically comfortable. The proportions are very specific, satisfyingly squat, you might say. 

These are clearly destroyed, I find I enjoy them more than the newer pair I have. Belgians are even more like the Smiths than I realized. Sometimes they get tedious and you need a break, but in the right place at the right time it really does feel that “there is a light and it never goes out.”