From a play I’m writing called Gumshoe:

“You can tell a lot about a person based on their shoes. It’s true.”
“What can you tell about me from my shoes?”
“Let me see them.”

They were size 10 1/2, men’s, soft-looking matte black leather with a sort of a seam running down the middle. Sneaker soles.

“I can’t really tell much unless you take them off and let me look.”
“Seriously?”

“This is very interesting.”
“What is?”
“Your mother was born in Russia?”
“No, she was born in Eugene, Oregon.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me. See, the Soviet Union had a state-mandated method of shoelace tying that was developed during the Kruschev era. It was called the Chernenko method. Everyone had to use it. Based on the stress pattern of your laces, I’d say whoever taught you to tie your shoes was Russian. Usually, it’s the mother.”
“Eugene, Oregon. And my dad taught me to tie my shoes.”
“I doubt that. But let’s pretend you’re right.”
“What else can you tell?”
“But are you taking this seriously? You can’t lie and say I’m wrong if I’m right.”
“I’m not lying. This is really interesting to me! Keep going.”
“Well, everybody wears the soles of their shoes differently, depending on the way they use it, their body type, where they live, et cetera. I can tell your body type just by looking at you, so I can tell from your shoes that you must have gained some weight recently. I’d say 10-20 pounds. I can also tell you drive a manual transmission, and you live in Ballard. I know that you work at a desk, and that you read a lot. You’re not married, but you are in a long term relationship with a woman. You used to skateboard.”
“The only thing you got right is that I’m not married and I drive a stick.”
“Come on!”
“This is good though!”
“Fuck, I’m usually better.”
“I’m an enigma!”
“Ha, say, you didn’t get mugged recently, did you?”
“No, why?”
“Well the scuff marks on the toe of the shoe just seem to… indicate that… oh, God, these aren’t your shoes, are they?”

“No, but as I said, you’re very good.”
“I won’t tell anybody.”
“How do I know that? How do I know you wouldn’t turn me in to the police? How do I know you couldn’t track me down with this knowledge of yours? Everywhere a man goes he leaves footprints, unless he wipes them clean.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I guess once you’ve seen a man’s sole..”
“Ha ha, yes, that’s good.”
“Old joke.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“I think so.”

Fin.