Posts Tagged ‘socks’

“Hi,” my neighbour’s daughter smiled at me across the gate. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re about to light a bonfire just in case…” her voice faltered and her eyes flicked briefly, almost imperceptibly, downwards and back again. “…just in case you’ve got any washing out.”
I followed the path of her glance as an icy finger pierced my heart and I heard faint, mocking laughter ringing in my ears.

A couple of years ago friends, Keith and Ruth, who were driving a van back from La Gomera to the UK (not a straightforward feat given the body of water in between), stayed with us for a couple of weeks. On their first morning, Keith emerged from the bedroom in a state of dress not fit for public viewing, i.e. he was wearing a pair of woolly socks underneath his sandals.
Quite simply a crime against fashion“What are you wearing?” I exclaimed, horrified.
“What? What’s the problem?” He was slightly hung-over, confused and had no idea what I was on about.
“You’re wearing socks with sandals,” having to point it out to him made the crime even worse.
“It’s just so uncool,” did I really have to explain this. “No-one with any semblance of good taste wears socks with sandals.”
“Look,” he went on the defensive. “I’ve just come from 1000 metres up a hillside in La Gomera. Even inside it was cold (this was July), I wanted warm feet and I wanted comfortable footwear. Surely in those circumstances socks and sandals are okay?”
He was drowning and he knew it.
“Nope,” I was sure of my ground on this one. “There is absolutely no situation in which the wearing of socks with sandals is justifiable, end of story.”

“Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know about the fire,” My neighbour’s daughter said again as she turned and walked away.
But I wasn’t really listening. I was still staring at the thick black socks contrasting against the neon orange design of the open toed sandals on the end of my legs. How could it have come to this?
It was winter, I was in the house, there was a cold draft on my bare feet, I wanted to feel comfortable, I hadn’t intended for anyone else to see me. But whatever I told myself, I knew the truth; there was no excuse.

Call the style police and ask them to slap the cuffs on me right now.