Okay, I’m sorry, but it’s time for a Monday afternoon rant. I know I’m wildly in the minority here, but I absolutely hate, loathe, and despise flip-flops. I ABHOR THEM. Maybe party of the reason for this is that I went to college in Southern California (go Trojans… or something), where the daytime uniform of choice — winter, spring, summer, and rush season — was:
XX: A pair of Rainbow flip-flops, tight sweatpants/sweatshorts with butt-lettering, a tank top
XY: A pair of Rainbow flip-flops, khaki shorts, pop-collared shirt in any color other than blue or yellow (rival school)
Which means that on this campus of 17,000 there were roughly 15,000 pairs of flip-flops hovering in my periphery at all times (nb, I am short, meaning my eyes are closer to the ground, closer to the flip-flops). My waking hours were haunted by the thwap-thwap sound of lazy thong-toed feet trudging through the halls. And when it rained, I had to see hundreds of wet feet lined up across the floor of the cafeteria. Feet are gross, you guys. I don’t want to look at them, ever.
One that that I do love, though, is the classic Converse Chuck Taylor. I’d estimate that in my lifetime I’ve owned no less than 25 pairs of Chucks. Black, blue, red, brown, green, white, off-white, giraffe-print (still have those; they’re awesome), hi-tops, low-tops, even some Jack Purcells. They got me through my elementary school tomboy period, my punk rock 9th grade phase, my college “indie chick” years — and even now I’ll occasionally slip a pair of clean white low-tops on beneath my jeans and head to work.
So what to do about this marriage between a thing I love and a thing I hate? Rant about it on the Internet, then send the happy couple the shittiest thing on their gift registry. Rainbow toe socks.