So I did something recently that I promised myself I would never do. Not only did I promise myself, I gave open looks of disdain to those that did and readily spoke about them and their poor sense of style behind their backs. Ladies and Gentlemen, I confess, I wore those hideous Crocs while flying. Trans-Atlantic.
While I admit that they are extremely comfortable, they also look like a piece of plastic cheese that you would find in a child's grocery store set. I let my croc wearing family and newly converted boyfriend convince me that wearing the crocs on our flight back to England would not only be sensible and practical, but would give my flight a whimsical air. Both of us wearing bright red crocs with wool interior, mine with Minnie Mouse sticking out of one of the cheese holes, boyfriend with Donald Duck. How cute.
I am someone who believes that while being comfortable on a long flight is of the utmost importance, it should never be at the expense of style. I broke this rule and paid for it.
You know you're not wearing cool shoes when adults look at the apparel on your feet with shock and/or pity and young kids run up to play with them. I was wearing toys for shoes. In public.
And just to confirm my feelings that the comfortableness of wearing red rubber on my feet would indeed be cancelled out by the sheer embarrassment of wearing red rubber on my feet our taxi driver put in his two cents.
Interesting shoes, he said. Yes. They were Christmas presents from my Mother in Chicago.
Well, your Mum sure has a good sense of humour, because the last time I saw a lady wearing shoes like that a house fell on her.