I remember in the mid-80s or thereabouts (s'all a blur), a cool thing to do was find a pair of large, serious wingtips at a thrift store. Worn so they had a patina like antique wood but not so beat that they let weather in. And pound around in them babies. I always liked the authority of the thick soles and the hard rubber heels and something that looked like they had some history to them. I'd wear them with jeans or whatever and a sport jacket -- tweed worked well. That was when I was young. Now, I, well, I, uh, wear the same damn thing, I guess. I really need to do something about this arrested development.