People who buy shoes for comfort are cops.

There is really no other explanation. A sparkling, sublime footwear choice is the most expedient way to demonstrate taste. It achieves more per square inch than any shirt could. Whatever you may have to trade in exchange for a shoe with real personality is almost certainly worth it.

I promise, and I have the sore ankles to prove it. The last couple of days, my right outer calf has been throbbing. I am certain this is because of my footwear choices. But though life has crossed me untold times in recent years, I have not yet given up on chasing this particular kind of beauty. Catch me hobbling — and styling — all the way to retirement in Boca.

Determined to prove the viability of this opinion, I skeptically embarked upon a reasonable-footwear doubleheader: Allbirds and Birkenstock, which recently opened a few blocks away from each other on Spring Street.

I went on the day of a dreary rainstorm. Deliberately, I wore my least comfortable rain boots and thin, supportless socks. By the time I hit Spring Street, my feet needed succor.