Do The Mike Thing

Mafia

For the longest time the AJ1 OG '85 release in Black/Red/White colourway was my holy grail and I would have done anything to have a pair in my possession. It all started when I saw some chick with a pair on and felt so slammed that she had better shoes on than me. My quest began. Scouring the internet for a size 7 Men's in wearable condition was proving harder to find than I originally thought, until one day I was sent a link from a member of the Sneaker Freaker forums I did not know (and to this day, still don't) to a pair of well worn yet still rock able AJI OG '85's in, yes, Size 7. Get the fark outta here! The blood rushed to my head and my fingers were typing so fast I couldn't see them on the keyboard. One email to the seller (who by the way had no idea what the shoes were) and $100AUD later, these bad boys were mine. Easy! Hold up, wait a minute; this was too good to be true. Being an Aussie buyer and not having a Confirmed Paypal Address was causing problems with the seller, who didn't trust my immaculate 100% positive feedback to send me the shoes anyway. The hunt continued, after paying for the item, to find a US hookup that could get my shoes and then send them onto me. My holy grail was going to try and get the better of me and make this transaction harder than a sex starved teenager. What to do? Finally my man Benny Basics from Rogue Status pulled some strings and the seller agreed to send the sneaker his way after 3 weeks of to-ing and fro-ing. It took well over a month to receive the shoes and when I did, lets just say, it was worth the wait. These joints were beat up pretty good, but I could care less if they weren't DS. I wanted my shits to look like they had been rocked since 1985. And that they did. I took them to Mr Cleaning Expert Hans DC and pulled them out the bag, like a bag of shinning gold and the expression on both our faces was of pure adulterated love and maybe a hint of horniness! Instructed by Mr DC, I was to clean up the midsoles with some soap and water, paint over the cracks with some shoe polish and hope for the life of me, these grails didn't disintegrate after the first wear. Rocking them proved to be a different story considering the ankle padding had literally turned to sawdust and the midsole was not going to give way to my flexible bandy feets. This in turned made me realise that the Air Jordan I's were to be placed on my rack as purely a piece of art, a time in sneaker history, never to see the light of day or feel the rock had asphalt under its sole.