Saturday, February 20, 2010

Bluestockings and red sox

posted Thu, 08 Sep 2005

Socks and stockings. That’s what I’m going to talk about today.

You probably think I’m nuts. “What on earth is she going to say about socks and stockings that could be in any possible way entertaining?” you are asking yourself.

My friend Anita was convinced her children needed to be exposed to a lot of germs to make them healthy. In a restaurant once, Michelle kept throwing her pacifier on the floor. I was a little shocked that Anita dusted it off and handed it back to Michelle. Michelle is now a beautiful, healthy teenager, so I guess Anita was right.

Well, wait and see, I tell you. Wait and see.

Socks first.

So I am in Target, one of my most favorite places in the world to shop after the Junior League Thrift Shop and eBay, looking for athletic socks because the socks I bought eight years ago when I finally got a job after Peace Corps and had a little bit of money have given up the ghost and it’s time for new ones.

Yes, my socks last for eight years. I come from thrifty – some might say frugal, nay, even tight – people. That’s OK. My mortgage will be paid off in seven years (that’s eight years early) and I will be debt free before I am 50 with a decent bank account and will never be a burden on society. Can you say the same? And I have flood insurance, thank you very much.

Anyhow. I am looking for new socks to wear with my running/be abused by the mean Marine drill instructor shoes (said instructor is, I must say, getting me into the best shape of my adult life) and I notice a new feature in socks. Or maybe it’s an old one but as I have not been in the sock market for the past eight years, I have not noticed.

Anti-bacterial socks.

That’s right.

Anti-bacterial socks.

Perhaps you have heard of this kind of socks and this is old news (I guess that’s an oxymoron), but I have not heard of anti-bacterial socks.

What I want to know is why such a feature would be necessary in a sock. Or socks.

I myself am in the habit of washing my socks after one wearing. I am also in the habit of bathing daily. So I am puzzled as to why a sock would need a built-in self-cleaning mechanism.

Maybe for someone who is away from regular laundry facilities, like someone on an extended hike, or deployed in Iraq, this would be useful and would be worth the extra $3 a pair. But the average customer shopping at the women’s section in Target for footie athletic socks doesn’t really meet that demographic, does she? I mean, you don’t see many unwashed or about to be unwashed women shopping in Target. We’re usually a pretty peppy middle-class bunch. A clean peppy middle-class bunch.

Ah. There’s the rub. A bunch of overzealous, overscrubbing, paranoid, dingoes-got-my-baby, staph-fearing bunch. I just figured it out. See, this is why I will never make a million in marketing. I am too darn practical. “What sort of idiot would spend money on that?” is my first, second and last reaction.

Now stockings. At lunch, I ran to TJMaxx to load up on pantyhose. The cashier told me she couldn’t wear pantyhose because they “cut her off.” Women, you know what I’m talking about here. The same reason my mama told me not to wear underpants to bed.

Anyhow. She told me she wears thigh-highs instead. These are garterless. I was intrigued. I had never heard of such a thing. This sounds very practical. If you get a run, you don’t lose an entire pair of hose. We can put a man on the moon, but we can’t make pantyhose that are pretty and runproof? Where are our priorities as a nation?

She locked her register and we went back to the stocking section. They didn’t have any in stock, but she showed me the brand that makes the thigh highs.

“The truck is coming in tomorrow,” she promised. “I always buy them when I see them. You need to get you some.”

I think I will.

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