After I moved in with Heather she had to come to terms with a lot of my stuff. While she loved the fonts, she wasn’t so sure about the clogs, prompting this blurb. I had a pair of Simple clogs that I got in 1996, which stood me in good stead and are still in the arsenal. I mostly wear them to take the dog out on wet mornings, as a driving shoe for snowboarding trips or for a quick trash take out. They are getting worn, and I should have gotten one size larger. I’ve been looking at a new pair for a couple of years, but I couldn’t see the Simple ones many places and when I did, I wasn’t in the buying mood. Heather would always cast a look that said, “If you even think about buying those, you will be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future. With zero hope of any kind of procedures.”
This from a woman who regularly wears shoes with an endorsement from the Marquis de Sade.
On a recent business trip to San Francisco, I journeyed with Heather to Shoe Pavillion in the hopes of becoming America’s Next Top Male Model wearing a new pair of clogs. I looked at the low end Birkenstocks, the normal Birkenstocks and a couple of designer pairs. They didn’t feel right and weren’t priced right. The elusive perfect pair of clogs had escaped me yet again. In our other thirty minutes of shopping, I was unable to find anything remotely approaching a clog.
I had put off looking at Crocs because of previous comments Heather had made during the summer of 2001 about a co-worker who had the O.G. green Crocs and she had strong feelings in the anti-garden shoe area. But it began to look like Crocs or a Croc-like substitute would be the only way I’d find a suitable replacement.
On a recent puzzle purchase trip with Leta (she’s starting to dig on the puzzles), I hit a store that carried a wide array of Crocs. I was happy that I didn’t have to buy orange or yellow or bright green or pastel blue and could settle on a pair of size 13 black Crocs:
I’ve worn these publicly, with Heather, without shame. It’s a special fun big day.