Years ago, when I was working a corporate job, I'd have to wear suits and fancy shoes.

But when I came home, my life was the opposite of suit-friendly.

See, at home, I was more of a farmer.

Still am.

I work outdoors, feeding chickens, dogs, goats. That's Gertrude.

Just one of my goats?

Rubbing her face up against the microphone.

This was a few months before she gave birth.

Fascinating interview so far.

Now picture a farmer shoveling goat shit and loafers in a three-piece. But pick up goat shit and loafers I did. I mean, I've often destroyed dressed clothing and shoes because

I would come right home from work to wherever I was and feed animals.

Build wood fires, planting the garden, because I

couldn't wait to get to it. I often do the same thing now, much to my wife's irritation.

I can't tell you the last pair of loafers or the last pair of tennis shoes I bought,

but I can tell you about the first, a pair of converse, a prize possession after

years are suffering from Bobos, and the name Bobos will make adults of a certain era cringe.

I'm talking cheap-ass, sorry excuses for tennis shoes that even your feet would make fun of you

for wearing. And while what

I have on my feet now don't make much of a difference, it sure did when I was a teenager. Style and

what we wear on our feet can make or break us. It almost broke me. Clothing can force you to make

some important decisions,

and some early fashion choices almost changed the course of my life.

...