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" There&amp;#039;s the baggy $90 Maurice Malone jeans. The $2,000 Versace suits. The who-knows-how-much 24-karat gold. And then there&amp;#039;s the $10-a-pair Kmart corduroy house shoe. No, these humble kicks don&amp;#039;t seem as if they&amp;#039;d be a standard part of the standard hip-hop guy&amp;#039;s getup, but this rubber-soled, Bunkeresque foot cozy surely, suddenly, is. With brands like Kinsman and Coaster, the house shoe has been celebrated in song by rappers like WC and Kurupt and is the established footwear of choice in blaxploitation film: You can see Larenz Tate thugging about town in a pair in Menace II Society and watch Ice Cube&amp;#039;s tube-socked feet slide into a pair onscreen in Friday.  Odd for footwear that&amp;#039;s really an indoor/outdoor icon of suburban leisure. (It was created by a housewife who, upon visiting a tire factory, married a common, housebound slipper to a slab of Firestone rubber.) Or maybe not odd at all. Think about it: There&amp;#039;s no mistaking these slippers for a salary-man&amp;#039;s loafers or a laborer&amp;#039;s lug-soled boots. The house shoe--as much as the jeans or the suits or even spending the afternoon in Snoop Dogg&amp;#039;s limo--loudly announces the livin&amp;#039;-large mantra &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t need to work like you do.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/entertainment/music/a4075/kickin-it-in-slippers/>