I’ve wavered in my standing on The Great Crocs Debate. When I first saw a pair, I instinctively deemed them hideous. I’d heard how comfortable they were but with a visage so foul, none of that mattered.
My Mom, who is on her feet a lot when teaching, bought a pair and quickly became a full-fledged fan. Doubtful, I slipped hers on one evening and succumbed to the undeniable bliss that is donning a pair of Crocs. Still I baulked, convinced I’d never align with a trend ubiquitous enough to affect our president’s wardrobe.
The question of whether or not to Croc is perfectly timed with the demise of the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned – my circa ’96 Nike soccer sandals. They’ve served me well, faithful and true in even the most dire situations. I can’t count the number of times I’ve tipped canoes on rivers all over Indiana. Invariably, during the ensuing chaos, I always lose my sandals and helpless, watch them float down the river into the unknown. Still against all odds, I’ve been miraculously re-united with them time and time again.
Despite that noble servitude, their time has come. The soles are now so worn that stepping upon even a tiny pebble stings my delicate feet. In these their dying days, I’ve wondered what could possibly replace my Herculean kicks, durable yet incredibly comfortable.
I got the answer last weekend when I came in close proximity with a pair of Mary Jane Crocs for the first time. Somehow the makers of Crocs discovered my kryptonite. One peek inside my shoe closet will tell you I, like Fergie, am a Mary Jane lover. I’m simply not strong enough to resist a cute pair of MJs, not to speak of those delightful Malindis.
As I listened to the wearer gush about how much she loved them, the last of my armor fell away and I found myself ready to offer my debit card for a pair of my very own.
And so, dear readers, barring some sort of fashion intervention, I will soon be seen in public sporting Crocs.
I’m so ashamed!!
Will you still be my friend?