I have never been one for fashion. I grew up in plaid flannel shirts. I’ll die in plaid flannel shirts.
In between, though, I’m for experimentation which brings me to my Crocs – a purchase made at the beginning of Summer 2007 and meant to replace my mesh-y Merrell clogs that have served admirably for the past three years in the East Village.
No question about it… These clogs are light, relatively breezy and comfortable – and you can’t beat the price – $25 here in NYC.
But, the opinions from friends and family vary in a red state/blue state kind of way. You either love ’em or you don’t.
In general, little people who are young in age think I’m pretty cool to be wearing Crocs and, likewise, I think they’re pretty cool, too. Unlike several younger female relatives, I do not put costume jewelry in my beige crocs and prefer to go natural. It’s all good – we’re all still cool.
But the upper age brackets are decidedly mixed – with those of parental qualifications to this writer decidedly anti-Croc to the point of comments such as “Hey, you gotta come see what he’s wearing now!” followed by the “aircraft carrier” joke, “boat feet,” “that’s bigger than a crocodile” and my favorite: “we still love you.” None of this instills fashion confidence. Thankfully, I’m used to it.
One negative Crocs revelation I have had is the ability of microscopic (I can’t ever find them in my shoe) pieces of stone and other tiny, sharp objects to come aboard my “boats” and thereby cause me to stop and start as I make my way over urban terrain such as Tribeca‘s cobblestone streets in New York City’s Lower Manhattan.
With fall just a few weeks away, I will be putting aside my Crocs for future summers of mental and physical abuse. Overall, though, I still like my Crocs.
September 4th, 2007
Entry Filed under: Fashion