Leopards never change their spots and today, I could not help myself; I reverted to my catty "fashion" roots. As my husband and I were sitting calmly on a park bench watching our children scoot with tranquility, I saw them: The Clog Family; the quintessentially frumpy, self-righteous, too-smart-to-be-chic UWS family. They ALL wore clogs, and not the sort-of cool, Swedish Hasbeens old-school ones; they were the obnoxious orthopedic ones: Mom and Dad had matching Danskos, and the innocent little one wore fleece-lined Crocs. And the Dad's clogs were accented by ratty-bottom, too-short jeans.
It's not that I have a problem with bad style; bad style takes guts: it's loud, tacky, grating, colorful -- I have a friend here and there with "bad" style. It's the frumpy, no-style style suburban people who live in major cities that get me in a tizzy; and these are the people who will drive Bill Cunningham to his inevitable end, as these days, there are so many of them who have chosen to live here.
It should be noted that my gynecologist, a man, wears clogs; the Dansko professional ones to boot. The thing is, Dr. Rafalin could have a scraggly pony-tail and wear open chaps with fringe; I would not care. He is a very funny guy and he delivered my twins safely. HE can wear man-clogs.
I could like a clog, such as the originally-intended Seventies wooden-bottom Scandinavian ones in whimsical colors, but even in the best circumstances, I'm just not 100% sure... I am 110% sure that I am not into pseudo clogs with orthopedic purpose; almost six years ago, some UWS "mommy" friends convinced me to buy the dreaded Dansko clogs, but it was a no-go: not only are they ugly, they are treacherous; a tragic combo similar to nasty-idiot.
So, back to chic shoes that occasionally kill my arches and give me leper blisters. ;-)
