My mother and I, very similar in appearance, but very different in shoe taste. Personally, I personally wear my shoes over and over and over again. My mother hates the dirty look of the sole, my soggy sandals slide right onto my feet. The shoes smell like an old trash can, used again and again. The laces, filled with dirt, like your clothes right after soccer practice.

But my mom, my mom’s shoes, angelic as a chandelier, are nearly perfect. Rows upon rows upon rows, her shoes jump out to anyone that sees them. Her new Nikes never worn before, shine bright as a snow leopard, and her laces smile like a newborn. The attention to detail is crazy, no dust, no specks, no bends or breaks, the LED light lying underneath the shoes, giving it a radiant glow. The tongue is perfect, touching it gives you a sensation never felt before. Like a lion, my mothers win in any competition available.