OK so late last night I found myself online searching Biz Rate for the least expensive pair of Mammoth Crocs I could find. Yes, I realize that sentence is probably more revealing than I want it to be. From the most obvious, to why would I buy a pair of Crocs, I don't garden. And ending with the fact that I am shopping on Biz Rate to find the least expensive pair available. Seriously, like I can't shell out the $39.99 on a pair of shoes. For heaven's sake, I can just look at a Target and drop a Ben Franklin. Have you ever watched Project Runway? Tim Gunn the fashion guru once said that he thinks that Crocs were the biggest fashion mistake of the 20th Century. So now how could I, a fashionita in my own mind go against the Gunn?
Have I just given up, finally rolling over and succumbing to comfort over style? YOU BET. Hey- don't judge unless you have ever worn a pair. The sheep that were shed for these shoes must have been from Abel’s own flock as they are undoubtedly, the most comfortable pair of slipper/shoes I have ever slipped on my cracked unpedicured heels. I tell you what, those "practical" utility pant wearing moms in the school pick up line really knew what the hell they were doing floating around in their bright orange, red and florescent green mother ships. I have climbed aboard, my friends... and today I vow to singled handily bring back the Croc. Long live Crocs-- crocs vivants!!!
Of course, looking back to less than a year ago I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of Crocs. They were just one of the many fashion “trends” that I had the good taste to stay away from. Crocs, women’s suspenders and those horrid geometric and tribal shirts that were all vying for a great 80s comeback. No, no and no. But I gotta say, when you roll out out bed and the most important place you have to go that day is Wal Mart, crocs are the bomb.
Now since I have revealed this ugly truth to you, I thought maybe I should continue to dig deep and give you some background as to where it all started and how I have progressed to be the fashion icon I am now...again in my own head.
Remember Polo shirts? It was fifth grade, I had accumulated 13 polo shirts, which was a pretty big deal if you were to use this information as bragging rights against all the other children who didn’t have them. What I never told anyone was that only one was an authentic. The other twelve "polos" were bootleg with the tags ripped in half, purchased in a seedy hotel room. I have no idea how my mother found this place, but we spent an entire Saturday wading knee deep in oxfords to find those perfect shirts that weren’t ripped or stained. I can blame this day for my transformation from amateur shopper to professional hunter. I may as well have had my first taste of deer blood that Saturday afternoon. There I was covered from head to toe with cotton fibers and cigarette smoke from the Italian that had bootlegged the truck load of factory seconds from Jersey. Ralph Lauren permeated through the air, there was no going back, that day I became a true bargain hunter.
Or how about the Flash Dance trend, complete with big 80s big hair. Can I get a hollar for the color yellow!! OMG, what the hell was I thinking? Man, I remember "stumbling" upon the bag that held this outfit it in back of my mom's closet the month before Christmas, I could not wait to open and wear it. And I had the perfect occassion this outfit, it would be perfect for my entry to the Seventeen Model Search photo contest. Don't tell me you didn't send in a photo, hoping to be discovered? Now I am just glad I have this set of photos and not my girlfriend.
From Flashdance to Punk. Well, somehow I skipped over the whole punk/Madonna thing. I think I extended the shoulder pad phenom which came right after the Flashdance era a little longer than necessary. This was due to the fact that I had a coveted pair of removable shoulder pads. So basically I could put them, ANYWHERE I WANTED. Come on, I know you are digging the leggings and the yellow hightops.
However, today I think I would like a do over. I would scrap the shoulder pads and the leggings if I could enjoy being a punk for a day or two, maybe a week. I would walk around all pissed off, rocking out some red streaks in my hair and a lace fingerless glove on my right hand. Oh, and some motorcycle boots would be totally bad ass. And I would also like to walk into a Hallmark Store straight over to where the little crystal figurines are placed ever so delicately...and go Godzilla on them. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it either. I mean Seriously, Why Can't We?
