I am finally coming out of the closet by confessing that I am the owner of two pair of Crocs and I am actually starting to wear them out in public. I have no shame. When I first saw them two years ago, I took a pass and thought to myself, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing such ugly shoes. They look like something Minny Mouse would wear after taking LSD. I am particular about what I wear on my size 9 feet and never want to call attention to them unless I have on the most fashionable, groovy shoes from Nordstrom. I am the girl who wouldn't wear boots growing up in Pennsylvania in 18 inch show levels, because they were not cool. My tail
bone still reminds me of how stupid that was. I always felt Birkenstocks were a way of life, not something I would aspire to. I thought UGGS only looked good on people when they were actually covered in two feet of snow, not on the beaches of Southern California. My taste in shoes has always been vanity before comfort.
That all changed last summer when I was given a pair of Crocs by a friend who sells them in her store. Gradually I started wearing them in the privacy of my house and garden. Given the fact that they are the ugliest shoes ever made, I didn't think wearing these pink plastic shoes in public would be something I could do without compromising my dignity. But, damn if they weren't comfortable and easy to slip on and off. I started to notice more and more people were wearing them, and Colorado, where they originated, was claiming them as a natural resource. By the number of nurses who wear them, I'm beginning to think scrubs and crocs are a marriage made in heaven.
In January I went to Sayulita, Mexico and I decided to take them with me just to wear at the beach. I ended up never taking them off. I was navigating the rocky beaches, dirt roads and shopping expeditions with the endurance of a ten year old on a sugar high. The feeling of happiness my feet were experiencing superseded my vanity.
When I got back home, I bought a pair of navy blue ones, thinking they would be less conspicuous and I would wear them more often. Unfortunately I left them in my car and the one that was in the direct sun shrunk two sizes. I now have a size nine and a size seven. I have since learned that you can't expose them to temperatures over 190 degrees. Thank goodness it was only March and not July, or I would have been scraping them off of the seat. I guess that means I won't be cleaning them in the dishwasher like someone told me I could.
I am still self conscious when I wear them and feel that they look cute on everyone except me. I read somewhere that they are the podiatric equivalent of the muu muu and think that is a great analogy. But for someone who hates to wear shoes, I have decided these are the next best thing to going bearfoot. Will they catch on and become the new flip flops? Now that the Baby Boomers have swollen feet, fallen arches and bunions from years of wearing all the good looking shoes, I think you can bet on it.