I, and I would suspect most of you who read this blog, don’t like wearing socks when the weather is warm. Much to the chagrin of my boss, I have avoided socks with my loafers since the weather has been nice lately. Some people, like our own Granitedawg, even avoid wearing shoes in the warm weather months. Lewis had a dislike for socks with his loafers also.
My Sockless Stance
A few evenings ago I happened to be at a fancy dinner party. I call any dinner party where you have to say, “Excuse me,” when you burp, fancy.
As we were being served coffee after the meal, I crossed my legs to get more comfortable. The hostess noticed I wasn’t wearing any socks. She was aghast.
“You aren’t wearing any socks!” she aghasted, if that is a word. If it’s not, then she exclaimed.
“Socks, my good woman,” I began, “are among the most useless things on Earth, just behind fly swatters and just ahead of ties. I wear socks only when they are absolutely necessary, and that occurs only when the temperature is such that if I go sockless there is a chance my feet may become frostbitten.”
Wearing no socks has become a sort of trademark of mine, and most people think I go sockless in order to make the statement I am – how do you say it? – “laid back.” No shoes meant no socks.
This is simply not true. My sockless stance actually has its roots in my formative years growing up in Moreland. Since most of the children in my school were from a rural background, it was considered quite unnecessary to wear shoes, much less socks, until the first good frost.
I was in high school when I developed my disdain for socks. Having never taken that much heed of fashion trends, I was in the 11th grade and shaving thrice weekly before I got the word white socks were not considered appropriate footwear for any event that did not involve athletic endeavor.
I was at a dance at the National Guard Armory doing the “mashed potatoes” with Kathy Sue Loudermilk when somebody noticed I was wearing white socks with my loafers.
Word spread quickly. I eventually was hooted from the floor because of my white socks and Kathy Sue was so embarrassed she locked herself in the restroom and would not come out until she was certain I had left the premises. Only choice was to stop
This night of mockery and shame had a profound effect on me. Since I never could be sure when I might choose the wrong socks again, I simply quit wearing them in non-blizzard conditions.
Think of the money I have saved over the years by not having to buy socks. Do you realize what men’s socks cost today? They are outrageously overpriced.
I remain convinced that if the Lord had wanted men to wear socks, he never would have allowed Christian Dior to sell them for 10 bucks a pair.
Some may ask, do you wear socks at such occasions as weddings and funerals?
Weddings, never. Not even my own, after the first couple, when getting married sort of became a casual routine for me.
Funerals, it’s a tossup. It sort of depends on how well I knew the departed. I wore socks to my grandmother’s funeral, for instance, but I didn’t wear any to my bookie’s, who died in a freak hunting accident in front of his favorite Italian restaurant.
As to whether I will wear socks to my own funeral, I’m not sure. It depends on the weather.
Notice the sockless Lewis on a cover of one of his books: