The Clerical Fashionista!

Here I am modeling my newest fashion acquisition, the clergy cap, complete with clerical tab. I got it from OldLutheran.com.

On Seeing Three Penguins at Kroger

[File this one under, JUMP, just my opinion.]

I saw them, three young men struggling to make it across the parking lot of the Kroger I visited two nights ago. You could tell that each step they took was difficult as they waddled, rather than walked. Finally, they made it to their car. But I couldn't help wondering, "What's wrong with them?"

The source of their struggle? The three were part of that growing army of young men who apparently don't know how to wear pants.

Someone needs to tell them that a waist band is just that, a waist band, not a halfway-down-your-backside-band.

One of these kids, fresh from his shift at the grocery store continuously tugged at his pants to prevent them from completely sliding down to his ankles over the course of the fifty-yard trek. Repeatedly, he reached down to pull up his pants just enough to keep from falling headfirst onto the pavement.

A time-motion engineer would probably deliver a staggering calculation as to how much productivity this young man is losing each day as he's forced, stride by stride, to use one hand or the other to pull his pants up just slightly north of the knees.

It's ironic to me that a generation so intent on using its hands for things like text messaging and video game-playing can't see how the way it wears its pants keeps it from doing those and other things.

I wonder what these kids think the crotch of their pants is supposed to be, if it seems natural for the inseams to gather just above their shins? The design of a pair of pants signals that this sagging fashion is all wrong.

And do they think that the world is dying to see their boxers or briefs? Speaking humbly on behalf of the world I can confidently say, "We're not!"

Nor do we want to see the even worse sight to which we're often subjected by these young men unfamiliar with the proper use of waistbands, drawstrings, or belts. I refer specifically to the unsightly "cleavage" their fashion often forces us to witness!

Not long ago, I watched a toddler taking some of his first steps. At one point, he felt his pants slip ever so slightly down over the top of his bulging diaper. When that happened, he realized that continued slippage would prevent him from taking further steps. Who knows, he might have even been a little embarrassed at the prospect of having the whole world see his little baby undergarment? In the face of these facts, he did what any sensible person would do: He pulled up his pants.

One can only hope that the young men who sport their penguin-pants would learn from that toddler!

Please, young men: Pull up your pants. Tighten your belts. Tie your draw strings. Keep the undergarments under. Learn to walk again!

You'll like it, I guarantee.

What a Crocs!: A Social History

I had seen Crocs before, of course.

I don't know when I first saw a pair of the brightly-colored clogs. But I do remember that the first people I saw wearing them were pre-teen girls less than a year ago. I figured that the shoes were some passing chintzy fashion accoutrement they picked up at Claire's. (I know all about Claire's because, dutiful dad that I am, I used to take my now twenty-one year old daughter to accessorize there when she was a tweener.)

But, when I underwent oral surgery--a gum tissue transplant--this June, I noticed that all my periodontist's female staff members (there are no males apart from the doctors there) wore uniforms of matching smocks, drawstring surgical slacks, and neon Crocs. "Are they comfortable?" I asked about the shoes, making small talk with one of the assistants as she ushered me to an examination room. "Oh, yeah!" she gushed.

I figured she must have been telling the truth. My observation is that usually, there's a direct corelation between the comfort of any article of clothing and its ugliness. For example, for years now, I've almost exclusively worn what I call "old man's shoes" from SAS. I keep a pair of black and a pair of brown for more "formal wear," as on Sunday mornings or for important meetings, and backup pairs of each color for daily use. (When new formal pairs are brought onstream, the shoes formerly designated for regular daily use are pressed into service as my "lawn mowing shoes.") I love my SAS footwear! But it isn't because the shoes are beautiful. It's because they're comfortable, the only valid reason I can think of for buying or wearing a pair of shoes! But my SAS shoes aren't nearly as ugly as Crocs.

After my oral surgery, I began noticing more and more women, especially those who work as sales floor clerks, nurses, teachers, and others who are on their feet a lot, wearing Crocs. Clearly, I concluded, the shoes had become a fad, like those huge purses with elaborate color prints you see women carrying these days.

But then, last night, I learned just how pervasive a fad the Crocs phenomenon has become. I saw the shoes in a completely new light, as hit items not just for medical personnel, teachers, or pre-teen girls any longer!

My wife and I went to nearby Mariemont to meet some friends for ice cream at a Graeter's Ice Cream parlor. While we stood on the sidewalk outside the shop, chatting, a family passed by us: Mom in traditional sandals, followed by two kids and Dad...the latter three all wearing Crocs.

And Dad's Crocs weren't in some subdued shade! This guy hadn't tentatively stuck his toe in the latest cultural wave, hadn't opted for what some guys might see as a sensible and unexceptionable hue, like brown or black. No! His Crocs were bright, screaming, flaming ORANGE!

Displaying my ignorance, I turned to my wife and our friends and said, "I never knew they made Crocs for men."

It was funny I mentioned that, one of our friends said, also a pastor. She and her husband--like her, another seminary classmate--had just been at a gathering of friends where one of the male guests had also worn a pair of Crocs. Another male present at the gathering had made a crack--a Croc crack?--about the shoes, intimating that the bold male Croc-wearer had swiped his daughter's footwear. "It was good-natured fun," our friend told us, "but you could tell the fellow who said it had been surprised to see a man wearing Crocs."

My education as to the extent of Crocs' acceptance was deepened just this morning. A friend and member of our congregation had outpatient gall bladder surgery. After we shared a prayer, she was rolled off to surgery and her husband and I, one of my best friends, awaited word from the surgeon about how things had gone.

After the surgery was completed, we were escorted to a consulting room where, moments later, the doctor walked through the door. He was a tall guy, surprisingly fit and certainly someone who, in earlier years, had played more than a few sports. Sitting down and crossing his legs, I couldn't help but notice...you guessed it: He was wearing a pair of Crocs! (In sensibly subdued dark blue, I might add.)

Once his briefing on my friend's successful surgery was completed, I had to ask the surgeon. "Are your shoes comfortable?" "Oh, yeah!" he gushed.

The evidence of the shoes' quick and pervasive rise to popularity is more than anecdotal, of course. Crocs, Inc., the company that produces the shoes, is making lots of money.

But Crocs do have their detractors. Some people say that it's easy to contract foot fungi from them. For example:

Shoes like Crocs earn high marks for having good arch support, especially compared to some summer favorites such as flip-flops, but the synthetic material of the shoes can cause some problems because they don't wick moisture away like leather and the friction between the foot and the plastic can also cause blisters.

Yet Crocs defenders can point to the same article detailing problems with the shoes with this:

...people [don't] have to give up the comfort and cool style of their Crocs.

For people who wear the shoes frequently, they need to wipe out the shoes with a bleach-based spray or wipe on a good shoe spray that is labeled for killing fungus.

"You don't have to submerge them," Christensen said.

To overcome the blisters, Christensen recommends spraying the feet with a light coating of antiperspirant/deodorant.

"The coating reduces the friction," Christensen said. "It can control sweat and odor, too."

I don't know. That seems like an awful lot of trouble to me. I just polish my SAS's every couple of months, the only maintenance they require other than replacing an occasional snapped shoestring.

I salute those men willing to emulate the male peacocks and cardinals, the more outlandishly colorful of their species, by slipping on screaming yellow Crocs, of course. And I'm glad that all those nurses, surgeons, teachers, and others have found a way to ease the burdens of their poor, aching feet. But I think I'll stick with my bland, extremely comfy--and nearly as ugly--shoes for now.

The jury is still out as to whether Crocs turn out to be like the PT Cruiser, a product which looked dorky, became wildly popular, and has remained a consumer fixture, or more on the order of the Pog phenomenon, which took off like a meteor and is now largely forgotten. One indicator of the shoes' long-term prospects may be this, though: When I had my first Crocs-sighting about a year ago, I never dreamed I'd be blogging about the things!

[More on Crocs here.]

[Thanks to Andrew Jackson of Smart Christian for linking to this post.]

[Here's the corporation's account of its remarkable success.]