People often question my philosophy behind wearing sweaters, pants, thick socks and chunky boots almost every day of the year. But the simple truth is I’m probably cold. And if I’m not, I anticipate being cold at some point in the day. So, this is my disclaimer: I realize the following viewpoint is specific to me (and fellow cold-natured humans) and I do not in any way plan to impose these beliefs on others or convince them to convert to my lifestyle. The fact is my cold tendencies mean I do not appreciate Chacos.
I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and had never heard about said shoewear until that fateful first day of my freshman Bible class. I turned to my two-day-old friend (he was not two days old; we had been friends for two days) and noticed he just picked up a box from the mail center. I innocently asked him what was inside, expecting a care package from his mom or some books from Amazon, but instead I met his valiant response: a new pair of Chacos. I told him that I had never heard of his beloved shoes. His jaw dropped (accompanied by a chorus of “really?” from surrounding eavesdroppers) because of my ignorance about only the coolest and most practical shoes ever. Allegedly, these indestructible shoes are so practical because if it rains, the water slides right on through one’s toes and back into the river of life. He then unveiled the mysterious shoes from the box, hoping to inspire me with their impressive physique. I was dumbfounded. I thought this was a practical joke the whole class had schemed against me, the ignorant outsider student.
At that moment, I had a flashback to my dad’s chunky rubber sandals with velcro straps called “Tevas.” He wore them on various kayaking adventures during my childhood Seattle summers. And that’s exactly where I felt these newly discovered “Chacos” belonged: on my dad’s feet in a river between the years 1990 and 1998. He would sometimes wear socks underneath for special occasions.
This brings me to my next point of discussion: socks and Chacos, or what I like to call “Sockos.” Though I understand this is a rare combination, I have seen it happen before, and it must be mentioned — and stopped.
Let’s go back to the frozen state I live in every day. I don’t remember the last time my toes have seen the light of day. I rarely wear open-toed shoes, and that includes sandals, flip-flops and, of course, Chacos. In addition to this strong distrust for open-toed shoes, I have an equally strong admiration for socks. So, add those two opposite factors together, inspired by my cold tendencies, and you get my justified reaction to Chacos, the Tevas of the South.
