They were on sale at the Vanderbilt Bookstore – hell, it seemed like you could buy one of anything at the Vanderbilt bookstore – and I didn’t think twice about throwing a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers on the pile of stuff I was buying on my Commodore Card. After all, they were the platonic ideal of sunglasses. Roy Orbison, the Blues Brothers, Don Henley’ chorus on “The Boys of Summer”, every movie in the 1980s – why wouldn’t you?
The error came when I left them strapped under the sunshade in my car at City Stages one year. Needless to say, the kind of heat that builds up in a parked car in Birmingham is enough to soften any old plastic, and the earpieces were always too wide after that. I did get some rubber separator rings put over the hinges that helped matters somewhat.
And then, after sitting on my sunglasses five years ago, I bought another pair, this time the New Wayfarers in tortoise with brown polarized lenses, and hung onto them ever since (save for the two-month interregnum when they got lost in my sister-in-law’s purse). They’re a little scratched (might be able to buff it out, I don’t know) and a little warped, but still serviceable as daily wear.
So now, with my work bonus, I finally invested in the 52mm New Wayfarer in classic black, with the classic gray-green crystal polarized lenses. They are simple, they are elegant, and they are absolutely timeless. And I intend on getting many more years out of them, because my Wayfarers resist loss and damage better than any other shades I ever owned.