Cut the clown shoes
"Crocs" shoes, available at Whole Foods for $29.99. (Photo by Dina Rudick/Globe Staff)
By Christopher Muther, Globe Staff | August 10, 2006
August 10, 2006
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something giant and orange, and was quite certain that Mickey Mouse had arrived for a day at the beach. Because who, but a giant cartoon rodent, would be interested in strutting publicly in orange foam clogs? The answer is this summer's most depressing fashion trend (and I'm using the term fashion quite loosely). The giant orange shoes at the beach were not attached to a registered trademark of the Disney company, but a 50-something-year-old dad who was wearing Crocs.
For those who have had the good fortune to miss them, Crocs are the foam shoes that resemble the clogs my sister wore in fifth grade, cross-bred with an Ikea cheese grater. Crocs are the Merrells of 2006, only squishier and, not to mince words, even more repugnant. But this has been the summer of Crocs. Much like David Hasselhoff and West Nile Virus, I can't get away from them. People wear them at the beach, to the convenience store, and in restaurants (cut to me losing my appetite). Shop for tabouli, and there are Crocs for sale at Whole Foods. Look for a birthday card for your grandmother, and there are more Crocs selling at the Hallmark store next to the over scented lavender candles. I'm flummoxed that people are eagerly paying $35 to enrobe their feet in Crocs when they could be spending their money on more aesthetically pleasing fashion options, such as the stretch pants sold in the back of Parade magazine.
Nurses, sous chefs, professional gardeners, children under the age of 8, and anyone with an employee ID from Barnum & Bailey are fine to wear Crocs. If you fall into one of these categories, please don't write me an angry letter. If you don't fall into one of these categories, I encourage you to unite with other Crocs owners, light a bonfire, and melt those homely things into beer can cozies for the needy. The company sold 6 million pairs last year -- that's a lot of beer can cozies for the needy.
Normally I'm Teflon to these fashion trends. But Crocs have stirred a rare emotion inside me, the same feeling I experience when I see people wearing sweat pants in the grocery store or Paris Hilton's quivering little dog on E!. I understand that no one is immune from bad fashion decisions -- just ask me about my unfortunate bolo tie phase in high school -- so consider this rant to be nothing more than kind advice from a friend, a friend who can't stand to see any more people walking around in Grandma the Clown's footwear this summer.