An email comes through. It’s about socks. “Can you write something funny about this?” asks the Good Lady Editor. My first response? Good screaming God, no. I scoffingly refer you back to the subject matter: socks. I’ve just written an article on pugs; I’m riding high on an important news writing wave. Socks are neither interesting, nor do they lend themselves to witticisms. But oh, dear reader, how short-sighted, narrow minded and head-inserted-in-rear-ended was I; therein lies my folly.
Here are a few home truths: I care little about socks. As long as my feet are covered and warm and I don’t have to see any men’s hairy hammer toes, I’m content. Sure I can pull out the knee high like any woman when the situation calls for it and who’s not partial to a dash of lace encircling an ankle sock? But that’s where it begins and ends for me. Blissfully unaware was I, however, of the dreadful impact my stockinged feet may be having on those around me.
Luckily, Socked, a company dedicated to servicing the feet of gentlemen, were on hand to make me aware of the error of my ways and give me a good shake, via a press release titled, ‘The Shocking Truth Of The Psychological Effects Of Socks.’
“You may not know it,” it read, “but the colour of your socks leaves a lasting effect on everybody you meet. At work, in public, in relationships – the crucial first impression left by an ill-advised sock purchase could affect your everyday life.”
There ensued a run down of what exactly the colour of your sock says about you. The white sock, for example, is favoured by, “Eighties throwbacks. Commercial radio DJs” and, I would hazard a guess, perverts. Grey, on the other hand, denotes a dull life and/or inability to do laundry, thus is the chaussette de choix of bankers and vicars. While the yellow sock is for attention-seeking prats (I paraphrase) and is directly related to the increase of shin-kicking you may have been experiencing.
Odd socks are for wastrels. Go take a look at yourself in the mirror, then at your feet, then back in the mirror. Really, the only sock colour deemed appropriate for gentlemen is the black sock (though this is, somewhat unhappily, also the choice of well-dressed villains, which I imagine may take some of the mystery out of watching Midsomer Murders, but perhaps if I tape over the bottom of my TV, it’ll be ok).
It is to this end that the lovely folk at Socked are working towards, coming up with a scheme that will take the feet of the nation’s men and make gentlemen of them. By purchasing either a monthly (four pairs of socks a month) quarterly (four a quarter) or biannual (four twice a year) subscription, you too can remain bedecked in black as God (or some upper echelon of social-cum-fashion class) intended.
In the meantime, take comfort in the knowledge learned here today and apply it to your daily life: ne’er an odd sock for you again.
More socks, check out Happy Sock’s behind the scenes video teaser for Happy Holidays