I have never paid much attention to Kanye West. From the snippets of entertainment news that have trickled into my consciousness, he has at various times reminded me of a lost little boy, a toddler throwing a tantrum or red paint on a white rug, to get attention. My sympathy went out to him when it sounded as though he’d suffered a psychotic break under the media’s scrutiny. I have never listened to his music or worn any of his designs. By many accounts he is a talented artist. But humble he is not.
So, why would I risk being caught in a room with Kim Kardashian and not enough in common with her to even cover pleasantries, in order to step into Yeezy’s Yeezys for a day?