Wednesday, October 16

Croc-a-Doodle-Do. Or Don't.

Let me preface this by saying that I'm not into ugly for the sake of ugly. If I was, I'd be wearing New Balance dad gymshoes everyday and living the high life of comfort and this-little-piggy flexibility. The only rule I have with shopping is, "If it makes me laugh, I buy it immediately", but for one reason or another, that concept has recently expanded upon itself from "ha, look at me dress like a '70s freakshow" to "ha, look at me dress like this other '70s freakshow." I have been overtaken by an evil spirit who wants to be a poor man's Susie Bubble, and for that, I want to take this opportunity to apologize to each of your eye bouncy balls individually. encourage you to come to the dark side, by way of ze short article I wrote for Man Repeller. Clearly, my recruitment skills are nowhere near that of Scientology or the clipboard-wielding charity devils wandering city sidewalks, but with my own affability towards decades past and borderline hideoso items, I couldn't help but wonder publicly what other freaky deaky non-trends people are hoping make it big again. There is no denying that fashion people who purchased Birkenstocks in the past 9 months would have never done so without the public co-sign of it being "okay again," so what else can we dream up as being newly socially acceptable, as being big-time for a second time? Smocks? Toe socks? Horrific footwear?! I'm on-board for a solid yes, yes, and yes — and that's exactly why I'm cashing in my plastic chips for Crocs.

The last time I wore them — Crocs, that is, get used to it — was to Lollapalooza '12, a brilliant choice considering the wet grounds, breathable holes and fucking insane comfort of those cloud blobs. Every single friend of mine said they wouldn't hang out with me if I wore them. Every single one. Joke was eventually on them, as we were all at the open bar and no one ran away screaming due to complimentary whiskey. (Boom!) Only thang is, it wasn't the first time I parked my feet into their cushy holed blobs, and once I pack them to return back to Nueva York in my Christmastime suitcase, it sure as hell won't be the next.

I adore Crocs. ADORE them. But the only problem is, yeah, they're absolutely a garish sight. And if I could unearth my Birks from the depths of the throw-this-shit-in-storage-already bins lining the top of my apartment, I'd be rocking socks-n-Birkenstocks all winter long, too. Do I care if they're stylish? God no. But, to be truthful, I just don't want to hear people point and laugh at me on my way to pick up broccoli from the corner grocery. Just a little push into the "Oh, they were really big on Celine's runway" would be helpful, you know?

Anyway, I gotta find those Birkies right now-right now, so check out the Minor Cogitation up on MR before I start spewing uncontrollably about Phish fashion and the press e-mail Crocs sent us after this biddy went up. You don't want to know about the Twitter chat ideas. You don't want to know. (That is, unless it was about charms, in which case I would be SO DOWN.)2

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