HUARACHES? ASK JOHN FANTE

Those shoes, they were huaraches, the leather thongs wrapped several times around her ankles. They were desperately ragged huaraches; the woven leather had become unravelled. When I saw them I was very grateful, for it was a defect about her that deserved criticism. She was tall and straight-shouldered, a girl of perhaps twenty, faultless in her way, except for her tattered huaraches. 
And so I fastened my stare on them, watched them intently and deliberately, even turning in my chair and twisting my neck to glare at them, sneering and chuckling to myself. Plainly I was getting as much enjoyment out of this as she got from my face, or whatever it was that amused her. 
John Fante
[From: Ask The Dust, 1939]


Not original HUARACHES, but they fit the description
Source: samsvojmajstor.com



I was in rags the day that check arrived. My nondescript Colorado clothes hung from me in shreds, and my first thought was a new wardrobe. I had to be frugal but in good taste, and so I descended Bunker Hill to Second and Broadway, and the Goodwill store. I made my way to the better quality section and found an excellent blue business suit with a white pinstripe. 
The pants were too long and so were the sleeves, and the whole thing was ten dollars. For another dollar I had the suit altered, and while this was being taken care of, I buzzed around in the shirt department. Shirts were fifty cents apiece, of excellent quality and all manner of styles. Next I purchased a pair of shoes - fine thick-soled oxfords of pure leather, shoes that would carry me over the streets of Los Angeles for months to come.
John Fante
[From: Dreams Of Bunker Hill - Black Sparrow Press, 1982]


1949 | Nunn Bush
Ankle Fashioned Oxfords


... John, you’re big time now.

you’ve entered the Books of Forever

right there with Dostoevsky,

Tolstoy, and your boy

Sherwood Anderson.

I told you.

and you said, “you wouldn’t

shit an old blind man,

would you?” ah, no need for that,

bulldog.


Charles Bukowski
From: "Fante" (Betting On The Muse - Black Sparrow Press, 1996)



April 8, 1909 - May 8, 1983
John Fante and his dog Rocco

Source: Librofilia

 

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