A shoe confession

I bought Birkenstocks.

I have lived in Eugene for 22 years, and have regularly made light fun of the tie-dye wearing, patchouli-oil scented, Birkenstocks-wearing Eugene woman in her denim jumper.

And now I wear Birkenstocks. I can’t believe I ever even tried them on, but once I did, I never wanted to take them off. I bought them last summer (see? It’s taken me this long to come out of the closet about it) and I said, “People wear these without socks?!?” Well, yes. All summer long I wore them without socks and my feet were never so happy.

Now that it’s winter, my dilemma is that I don’t have enough cute socks to wear with them.  My sock drawer is full of white sports socks that I wear with my tennis shoes.

But slowly… ever so slowly… I’m beginning to acquire some nice Birkie socks. And then, when I cleaned out my mom’s dresser, I found three pair of adorable hand-knit socks that I knit and gave her years ago when I was on a sock-knitting kick. I don’t think she ever wore them.

The problem for all Eugene Birkenstocks wearers, is, of course, the Oregon rain. I go back to my old standby tennis shoes, because I hate getting the toes of my socks wet. I’m sure there is a closed-toe style, but I’m not ready to be one of those Eugenians who has a whole closet full of Birkenstocks. One pair at a time.

Baby steps, as they say. One foot in front of the other.

One finely-shod foot, I might add.

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