Monday, July 10, 2006
Can someone please explain the popularity of the odious Crocs to me? Actually, someone has. Everyone, meet Carl, seen here accessorizing with a coconut:
Boyfriend has not worn anything but Crocs on his feet in my presence for at least three months, to the point that he has worn a hole in the bottle of his beloved pair, shown in close-up here:
This dubious choice of footwear is almost okay for a quirky, left-leaning ex-vegetarian with a somewhat incongruous taste for hardcore music, and at least he had the good sense to get the less offensive chocolate ones, unlike Mario Batali, who flames around in bright orange. But seriously, women are wearing these — rubber clogs! — out on the street, and not just the 50-year-old-female version of Carl, either (a specimen who is usually seen wearing, say, lime green crocs with a dizzying array of clashing shades of green: tote bag, vest, shorts, jean jacket, etc., in other words, FEAR). I saw a girl on the subway in a miniskirt and hot pink Crocs. What was she thinking? Is she trying to attract legally blind Mexican gardeners? Okay, that was a little over the line. But come on! I went out looking for a clock in the East Village and within minutes I spied these two fashion atrocities:
The Croc market has exploded so much that you can now get little plastic things to go in them, so that if you happen to love both the Green Bay Packers and Crocs, now you can combine those two loves. This is actually pretty fun, though obviously patently ridiculous as well:
It is kinda cool that the evil geniuses behind Crocs, two hippies in Boulder, Colorado, have turned their high-dea for a remarkably ugly shoe into such a phenomenon in just a few years. Apparently they are so in demand that the manufacturer can't make enough. Here's a shot of the selection available at the Super Runners Shop in Grand Central:
Even my mom is hip to these shoes, singing their praises after using them as shower shoes on a recent road trip. And boy do people looooove to talk about how "comfortable" these shoes are (as if that counts for anything). Carl cannot shut up about it, and if you go on the Crocs site, you will see fawning testimonials from diabetics, marathonners, frat boys, even brides (my eyes!). Actually, lots of wedding peeps incorporated these shits into their special day. And I bet they didn't even go with the only slightly less-horbz sandal version:
Now, I think you will all be able to tell from my rant here that I am firmly against Crocs and think they should all die a horrible, fiery, toxic death. However. I hate to admit this, but...
...I am kinda, almost, maybe, sorrrrrta feelin' the Croc boot as an alternative to the ubiquitous rubber rain boots, perhaps in a nice bright purple. Anyone care to second that emotion?
Oh, and if you need a clock in the East Village, and fast, it's Galleria J. Antonio all the way.
Posted by Mary-Kate Hopkinson at 5:10 PM