Metro Sexual Confusion

I was in Dublin today with Little and we went into a shoe shop to find some nice footwear to suit her new dress. I find the whole shoe shopping thing very tiring so I did as I always do and I sat down on the conveniently placed chairs that they have around the shops to sit down on while you try on shoes. While staring vacantly around the shoes I realised these Addidas shoes that looked kind of cool. They were the brand with three stripes as always but were multicoloured and had loads of different patterns on them.
Thing is, at the back of the shop were ‘Men’s Shoes’. So if I, a man, wanted shoes in this predominantly female footwear orientated shoe shop I would simply walk on down to the back of the shop and get some shoes from this section. Then I noticed this guy stopping to look at these colourful Addidas runners, and I was like, aren’t they women’s shoes? The men's are down the back of the shop only, these shoes are in the middle? Then another guy paused while walking past the shoes and I realised, yeah, I guess they could be worn by the correct kind of funky dressed guy. But these shoes were definitely beside women’s. Who were they for? They guy looked at them for a moment, and then kept on walking.
So what was this? Metro sexual confusion? Do men no longer know what is ok for them to dress in. even worse, do men know themselves what they themselves want to dress up in. Personally, I am past all that. To be honest I was never really in that. I always wore pretty normal, boring I guess, clothing. I know what I like to wear, I wear it and give very little thought to my wardrobe. But I pity the man who gets up in the morning, looks at what he is wearing, thinks about who he is going to meet later on in the evening and dresses accordingly for the rest of the day.
There is nothing wrong with this of course, it is just that it is another layer of confusion and stress added on to day to day running of yourself. I know that I can’t wear pink shirts, I can’t do much with what little hair I have left. I know this because I give this much though during Desperate Housewives ad breaks and drinking my lattes and sparkling bottled water imported from Italy. I have to admit though that I get worried when I hear myself talking in my mind and I remind myself of Carrie from Sex And The City writing on her laptop. Maybe I am more metro sexual that I first cared to admit. Now, I wonder if those shoes come in a size 11?