Knocked My Socks On
The perfect pair make your soul sing and keep you cozy in the cold
Paws-Up: Cozy & Cuddly in the Cold
Jan. 28 update: I heard from 2 friends who I gifted socks to over the holidays. How are they staying warm during snow in Texas? By wearing my latest love affair, the most amazing socks in the world. Keep reading to learn how many pairs I own!
I never imagined I’d become obsessed with a pair of polyester socks. They’re the first thing I put on when I get home. I sleep in them and hope they never leave my feet —they make my soul sing. Meaning I sometimes wear the same pair, day after day, dirty.
The soft threads give my feet a warm gentle hug, often when I need it most. These socks are not a guilty pleasure for my tootsies. They’re a necessity for my appendages. Being without a pair to put on is potential for a panic attack. What’s the likelihood of finding something so perfect you actually favor filth?
“You don’t need more socks,” I tell myself while sitting on the toilet during a stop on a road trip to Austin. Hopefully I wasn’t talking out loud.
And to think, I tried to talk myself out of this purchase. This sock nirvana almost didn’t happen.
Socks have never brought me happiness. I’ve purchased specific socks: ones for my spin shoes, some that that are labeled right and left, in case I forget. I was forced to buy a $22 pair when I was trying a Pilates class, which only cost $10. I didn’t go back.
Socks also are the last thing I need. When I go to work conferences I become a mad woman on overdrive, obsessed with collecting good free swag, especially socks. Each trip I have to ask someone to suit on my suitcase so it will zip. Because my bag is filled with dozens and dozens of branded socks covered in tech logos that I’ll never wear. If questioned by TSA, they would assume I robbed a sock shop.
So I took myself to the bathroom to talk myself out of them at a gas station disguised as a gift shop, or maybe it was a gift shop disguised as a gas station.
“You don’t need more socks,” I tell myself while sitting on the toilet during a stop on a road trip to Austin. Hopefully I wasn’t talking out loud.
I decided to find something more practical to buy. I fingered a pair of short-overalls that looked beyond comfortable.
“If only there was a dressing room,” I thought to myself, a thought I often have at Costco, to avoid the inevitable returns. But these would make me look like an oompah lumpah. Or a Minion – they were yellow.
So I skipped the yellow onesie and searched for something safe.
“Buy me,” the socks kept saying to me. I regrettably returned to the rack and I think I heard trumpets as my fingers caressed the softest soft my fingers ever felt. I wanted to rub them on my face but refrained. It was pretty busy inside.
I still had doubts. The brand is World’s Softest and claim to be “like walking on clouds.” And from a US-based, women-owned business to boot. Sounds nice, but I’m used to things that brand themselves well and still suck. Even with extensive research and careful curated consideration, I’m typically let down. Take undereye products: the entire category is a high-dollar disappointment.
The socks won. So did a cookie, which was so icky I couldn’t bother finishing.
From my plant whisperer
Late that night, I made it to the hotel room and immediately put the socks on. I slept in them and put them back on in the morning after I showered. I wore them all day and then the next driving home. And then I just kept them on.
These socks are by far one of the biggest finds of my shopping career. They are whimsical and witty and have fun names. The Breakfast Crew options include: Toast, Cereal and Over Easy with images of eggs and butter. It reminds me of the kick I used to get from OPI nail polish names, like Tickle My France-y, Yoga-ta Get This Blue and the classic I’m Not a Waitress.
I needed more socks. I bought another 32 pairs.
I liken it to when I was younger, when it seemed easier just to buy more underwear instead of doing laundry.
And before you judge, they’re not all for me. I’m spreading the love, gifting them to friends:
Dog lovers get paw prints.
My friend Karen, who I consider the plant whisperer because of her knowledge of native plants, got butterflies, which we hope to attract with what we grow.
Someone with too many cats got a pair covered in black felines. Do you think they got the hint?
“You don’t understand,” I jump in, seeing their confused facial reaction. It’s not like anyone is expecting a gift that’s a staple like socks. I have to explain.
“These aren’t just socks. These are socks I’m obsessed with. I wear them every single day. Literally.”
Have these socks changed my life? I don’t think so. When I’m 80, I doubt I’ll still be obsessing over these socks. Unless, of course, I slip and fall in a pair, break my hip, need a replacement and never regain my yoga agility and age decades overnight. But I’m going to assume that doesn’t happen. I’m just enjoying how something small is making me super happy. Because today, that’s enough.
How are you keeping cozy in the cold?