By Daniel Wirtheim, Features Editor

Published Apr. 15, 2015

I’ve wanted a pair of huaraches ever since I read Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road.” It was this one memorable scene, when Sal Paradise is just leaving New York.

He’s caught in the rain, wearing his huaraches. It was the way he described them—so earthy, so stylish—I had to get a pair.

Last winter I made my girlfriend bring me a pair from Mexico. They’re the authentic kind, made out of old tires and hand-stretched leather. Unfortunately, it’s been too cold to wear my huaraches, until now.

I’ve never felt more comfortable in a sandal. I’ve always despised flip-flops. They’re uncomfortable, they’ll occasionally curl under my foot while I’m walking and they look bad on me.

Huaraches, on the other hand, cover my toes and strap around my ankles, and I feel like I’m on the cutting edge of American fashion.

The recycled rubber sole is another point all unto itself. I can feel the thread of the old tires beneath my feet, as if huaraches were made for the road.

My girlfriend’s family, who live in Acapulco, laughed at the huaraches. Wearing huaraches in Mexico is something rural villagers do—a thing of the past. I don’t listen to them.