Turning the Croc Corner

I saw it coming, and couldn’t stop it: My parents were going to
buy me Crocs for Christmas, and I was going to have to take them
like a man.

Crocs, you may know, are those lightweight, often fluorescent
foam shoes invented by some Boulder, Colorado, guys back in 2002 as
boating shoes. Everyone’s wearing them these days, especially
younger kids and women, who both seem to enjoy the bright colors
and funky fashion the sandal-like shoes offer. I, being neither
child nor lady, was hesitant and worried I’d have a hard time
working these odd kicks into my life.

Christmas morning came and, surprise!, so did a pair of Crocs.
(My parents also gave a pair to my brother, who got them back by
giving them each a pair in hideous red and pastel purple.) But upon
green%20croc.jpgopening my gift and finding a stylish
shade of brown Crocs — in the cloggish “Cayman” style for those who
keep track — my initial fears began disappearing. I could pull
these off, I thought, and then I tried them on. Wow: soft,
astonishingly light, comfortable — these might work. For the next
couple of weeks, I’d wear them around the house, fully enjoying
their comfort, which also includes being anti-microbial,
form-fitting, and “ergonomic Italian styling.” And then one day, I
turned the Croc corner. Screw the not-cool-for-dudes taboo — my
flat feet, pained by most shoes, were nurtured by the Crocs. So I
started wearing them everywhere: on my bike, out to dinner, into
work. I’ve proudly begun announcing that I’m far past the fashion
wrongs, because they just feel so right. Then I usually toss my
left Croc to orange%20croc.jpgsomeone and watch their eyes widen upon
noticing their gravity-defying lightness. (They weigh literally a
couple of ounces.)

Sure, most people still feel obliged to recognize that I’m
wearing them — not the sign they’ve been universally accepted like
my Vans or Pumas. And I still get some slack from friends, as in
when, the other day, my buddy told me they sell buttons so I could
spell my name on the Croc. What’s funny is that, at first, I didn’t
know he was making fun of me — I started wondering where I’d find
such enhancements.

Anyone know?

For your own pair, see crocs.com.


Please note this login is to submit events or press releases. Use this page here to login for your Independent subscription

Not a member? Sign up here.