Each week, we ask aFACE contributor to break down their biggest ick. Check out previous columns here.
You should always judge aman by his shoes, or so the saying goes. AGoldsmiths student in apair of vintage lace-up boots might sleep on amattress on the floor and have abeaten-up copy of Less Than Zero perched on his bedside table. Aman in suede brogues probably enjoys IPA alittle too recklessly and listens to Muse – unironically. And aguy in flip flops? Well…
Shoes are the eyes of the feet; the tell-tale sign of who aguy really is, his sensibilities and emotional intelligence. Shabby hi-tops that flap back at him when he walks suggests alack of self-care, but pearly white, squeaky-clean sneakers could mean he’s alittle anal-retentive. Bottega Veneta Puddle Boots in lime green might reveal awicked sense of humour, but luxury diamanté-studded trainers point to over extravagance – and (if the ick were aplace), Dubai.
What lies beneath is important, too. It took me awhile to fully grasp the importance of replacing your old socks, and that binning holey ones goes hand in hand with being afully-functioning adult. For that, Ihold my hands up and salute the friends who backed me into acorner with sharp objects one dark, stormy night.
It’s been afew years and, since I’m reformed, Ifeel Ican pass judgement on other people’s stockings. Generally, most socks are fine so long as they don’t have holes in them (see, reformed). What is not fine, however, are pop socks.
