I got up this morning and carefully – carefully! – selected my accoutrements. Lessee. Black slacks and jacket, black shirt with colorful “Persian-like” stitch accents, amber drop earrings and black pumps with, naturally, thin black dress socks.
These socks were black at 5:00 this morning.
Now, at 10:00, when I slowed down long enough to visit the ladies room and take stock of the overall “look” again…they have somehow, mysteriously, turned blue.
Oh yes. I’ve got the ever-trendy look of ‘all black except of course for the blue socks’ fashion statement going today.
Comfort and practicality insist that I leave the damned socks on and anybody who snickers at me, well, as long as they do it behind my back who cares. It is cold and my tootsies are irritated enough that they are being forced to wear dress shoes five days a week instead of the sneakers they had grown accustomed to over the last few years. “Freeze us and rub us raw with those pumps,” they growl threateningly. “And we’re outta here!”
I do believe they would walk out on me, too. They have no concept of loyalty, my feet. Take the time they suddenly decided they didn’t like my hiking boots and began swelling alarmingly inside them – when I was ten miles from my car. And then I made the mistake of taking off the boots to see what the hell was up in there, and they instantly ballooned out to such a degree that I literally could not wedge them back into the boots and had to spend the entire ten mile jaunt back to the car with my boots unlaced, tongue flapping madly as I hobbled my way back down the mountain. They stayed swollen for two days, then shrank back down to perfectly normal size the minute I made an appointment with an orthopedist because something was so obviously and definitely wrong with them.
And yet…the fashion gene I didn’t know I have is screaming that I must take them off immediately, stuff them into the bottom of my laptop case and deny all knowledge of them forthwith.
You know what this is, don’t you? It is proof positive that America’s Next Top Model is an evil show that needs to be cancelled immediately for the good of the American viewing public. I never would have given a fig about non-matching socks before that show came on, but now I can hear Tyra Banks in my head saying, “OK, so, what are you trying to say with this look? Is this the ‘I’m a colorblind buffoon’ look? I’m just not…feeling this look…”