Look, I’ve Had It
It was last Tuesday, about 11:30pm, and I was standing in my drawer. Again. Searching for that one black sock that would complete the pair. I’m not sure when it started, but somewhere along the line, I became that person. The one who cares about matching socks.
And honestly? I’m done.
I mean, who decided that matching socks were a thing? Was it some Victorian era prude who also invented the corset and the idea that women should faint at the sight of an ankle? (Which, by the way, is completley ridiculous.)
I’m not saying we should all start wearing mismatched socks to make a political statement or anything. I’m just saying… why are we still doing this? Who’s benefiting from my committment to sock uniformity?
I brought this up with my friend, let’s call him Marcus, over coffee at the place on 5th. He’s a podiatrist, so I figured he’d have some insight. Or at least a good joke.
“You know,” he said, “there’s actually a name for people who are obsessed with matching socks.”
“No way,” I said. “What is it? Sockholics Anonymous?”
“Close,” he said. “It’s called ‘sockophobia’.”
“That’s not a thing,” I told him.
“It is now,” he said, grinning. “Look, I’m a doctor. I can make up medical terms if I want to.”
Which… yeah. Fair enough.
But Here’s the Thing
I’m not saying we should all start wearing mismatched socks to make a political statement or anything. I’m just saying… why are we still doing this? Who’s benefiting from my committment to sock uniformity?
I mean, think about it. When was the last time you saw someone and thought, “Wow, their socks really tie the whole outfit together”? Never. That’s when.
And yet, here I am, spending 36 hours a year (I looked it up) searching for matching pairs. That’s 36 hours I could be spending on literally anything else. Reading. Learning a new skill. Staring at the wall. Anything.
So I did some research. I talked to people. I even went to a conference in Austin about it (yes, there was a conference about socks, and yes, I’m that cool). And you know what I found out?
Nobody cares.
I’m not saying we should all start wearing mismatched socks to make a political statement or anything. I’m just saying… why are we still doing this? Who’s benefiting from my committment to sock uniformity?
I asked a colleague named Dave about it. Dave’s a fashion blogger, so I figured he’d have some insight. Or at least a good joke.
“Dude,” he said. “Socks are the least of your worries. Have you seen what people are wearing these days? It’s like a fashion apocalypse out there.”
“But the socks,” I said. “They’re just… there. Always.
“Look,” he said. “If it makes you happy to match your socks, then match your socks. But if it’s causing you stress, then maybe it’s time to let it go.”
Which… yeah. Fair enough.
So I decided to do an experiment. For one week, I wore mismatched socks every day. And you know what happened?
Nothing.
Nobody noticed. Nobody cared. The world kept turning. And I felt… free.
Now, I’m not saying you should all start wearing mismatched socks. I’m just saying that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let go of some of the silly little rules we’ve been telling ourselves are important.
And if you’re looking for local events to celebrate your newfound sock freedom, check out Vermont local events this week. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a sock-themed art exhibit or something.
But probably not. Because, again, nobody cares about socks.
But Wait, There’s More
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But what about the other socks? The ones that don’t have a pair? What do we do with them?”
First of all, stop asking so many questions. Second of all, I don’t know. Maybe we start a sock orphanage. Or a sock swap meet. Or we just accept that some socks are destined to be alone and that’s okay.
I’m not sure. I’m just a girl standing in her drawer, trying to figure out why we’re all so obsessed with matching socks.
But I do know this: I’m never going back. From now on, I’m a mismatched sock kind of girl. And I feel pretty good about it.
So there you have it. My sock manifesto. My declaration of sock independence. My… sock proclamation of sockiness.
I’m not sure what the point is. But I feel better having said it.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a pile of mismatched socks and a good book. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally start that sock orphanage.
About the Author
Hi, I’m Sarah. I’m a senior magazine editor with 20+ years of experience, and I have a lot of opinions about fashion. And socks. Mostly socks. I live in Vermont with my cat, Mr. Whiskers, who is judging me right now for writing this article instead of playing with him. You can find me on Twitter @sarahsocks.
