Most parents will insist that they don’t have a favorite child, that they love each of their kids equally. I don’t have kids, but I do have shoes—and I definitely play favorites. I’m hesitant to put a number on my shoe collection, but it’s certainly several dozen if not (gulp) hundreds deep. And yet, there’s only one pair that’s held down the vast majority of my outfits every season, only one pair I’ve worn to nearly every occasion imaginable, and only one pair I’d pull out of my burning apartment if I had to: Our Legacy’s Camion mules.
This isn’t the first time we’ve plugged the Swedish brand’s surprise-hit shoe silhouette. In the past, though, we’ve mostly relegated our praise to the Camion boot, a zip-up stomper you’re apt to see any number of GQ staffers wearing in the wild. (Some dude named Paul Mescal is also a fan.) The mules might be the underdog version of the style, but discount them at your own peril: over the years, they’ve turned more heads and elicited more compliments than I can count.
In the three years since I bought them, they’ve become my most-worn shoes by a huge margin. Part of that is sheer ease (read: my own laziness). The fact that I can quickly slip them on without, y’know, bending over and tying any laces—a crucial detail considering my chronic tardiness—gives them an immediate advantage over the rest of my shoe rack.
Compared to sneakers equipped with space-age memory foam, most hard-bottoms feel clunkier than rocks. Our Legacy’s mules are not most hard-bottoms. I wouldn’t go for a jog in them, but for just about every other non-strenuous activity they get the job done with finesse, and, crucially, without blisters. They’ve held up remarkably well given how often I wear them, too; the Vibram outsoles have only recently started asking for a trip to the cobbler.
But the real reason I consistently default to them is also the most obvious: they’re kind of weird. Not too weird, to be clear—just weird enough to make a boring outfit interesting and an innocent bystander do a double take. Sure, the toe box is gently squared off, and the buckle strap skews a bit pilgrim-y, but their ‘90s-era vibe jells with chinos, jeans, and proper dress pants in equal measure. (Hidden beneath wide-leg trousers, they look eerily like their high-top counterparts.) Our Legacy sells them in different materials each season, and though I don’t own multiple pairs yet, they’re the first shoes that I’m seriously considering grabbing in alternate colors.
Maybe, like a doting mother, I’m hard-wired to ignore their flaws, or maybe I see myself reflected in their gaze. Maybe I just like the way they look with everything in my closet. They might not take care of me in my old age, but it’s true what they say about kids: their presence is present enough.
