True RedI opened my sock drawer, looking for a pair of socks to put on, when I found a pair that I’ve had since high school.  This is a pair of socks that have been with me over half of my life.  Half my life.  One pair of socks. It was a sobering thought.

I remember the day I bought them.  I remember the friend I was with.  I remember what we did.  I remember everything about that day.  I also recall that they were the most expensive pair of socks that I’d ever purchased.  I didn’t care about that, though, I just wanted those socks.   I wanted to slip my feet into them and never take them off.  I vowed that I’d never get rid of them; even if they became hole-ridden.

* * * * * *

“You paid TEN DOLLARS for a pair of socks?  Are you crazy?” my mother lamented.

“Yes, I paid with my own money and I really wanted them,” I replied, just a little defeated.

“Mishelle, that’s stupid. Who pays ten dollars for SOCKS? You could get ten pairs at Hills for that much,” she continued.

“I didn’t want Hills socks, I wanted Gap socks.  So I bought them,” I firmly said.

“Aj, so zdravje da si nosiš*,” she flatly said in Macedonian, letting me know she wasn’t pleased with my purchase at all.

* * * * * *

They were thick and slouchy and not an ordinary pair of socks*.  And they were mine.  I wore them with my jean skirt and cut off jean shorts in the spring and summer and with my jeans in the winter.  I wore them with my black leather Nikes, with my found-at-Goodwill Doc Martins combat boots, and with my other black shit-kicking shoes.   I wore them with pride (and as often as I possibly could.)

I tend to hold on to things.  I’ve kept an old earring, even after one of the pair got lost, because I remember who bought them for me, where we were, and what we were doing.   I still have the first teddy bear that a guy named Mike,  who worked with my father, gave me.   I have the purple Caboodle with the flowers that I stuck on there in the 8th grade, and recently used it on a trip.   And then I have my ten dollar Gap socks that I bought in 1991.

These socks were important enough to have been packed up and moved eight times in almost 20 years.  They’ve been stuffed in the back of a drawer amidst the chaos of crew, knee, striped, polka-dotted, and holiday socks.  They’ve been forgotten about completely, but yet they have always remained a part of me.

As I sat on the edge of my bed, putting on my socks I was thankful.  I was thankful that they were mine to either keep tucked away in the back of the dresser drawer behind all the other socks or to wear with whichever shoes I so desire.

*Translation: “Wear them in good health.”
*This post may or may not be about socks. You decide.

Back to Top

You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

14 Responses to “Socks”
  1. Wow. Great post, Mishi! xoxo

  2. 03.01.2010

    I bet you still rawk those socks. Memories are such powerful things, and it’s surprising how something like a pair of socks can shape our lives.

  3. 03.01.2010

    Ok…so I couldn’t focus on the “socks” because of that picture. Day-um, you look hot!

  4. I know it’s not REALLY about socks, but I’ll just say, I LOOOOVE socks even though I can only wear then for about 4 months a year. I still have socks Patrick gave me when we first started dating.

    Yes, he gave me socks.

  5. 03.01.2010

    Fiends are like that, sometimes. You know – stuck in the back of the drawer, out of sight, out of mind – but always there. Always. <3

  6. 03.01.2010

    I was just thinking about you. Amazing that you’d come and comment on this post. I just knew you would. ox

  7. 03.01.2010

    Figures I’d misspell it and it would come out ‘fiends’ rather than ‘Friends’. That I AM a fiend is supposed to be de-emphasized, among friends, anyway. It’s all those total strangers that have to watch out.

  8. I will forever think of you now when I retrieve my makeup from my Caboodle that I’ve had since 1990.

  9. 03.01.2010

    Love this. I just got rid of my old stand-up light-up makeup mirror that I used fingernail polish to paint the boy de jour’s initials on from 1985. (I had already taken finger nail polish remover to the initials years ago. Didn’t go so well on the plastic…)

  10. 03.02.2010

    I love this post so much I just want to muss up your hair and look straight in your eyes and say “so good.”

  11. 03.03.2010

    You’re a keeper. (Yes, that’s a double-entendre.) How did I *know* this about you from before? I dunno. I just like this post.

  12. 03.04.2010

    Wow! Hills now that is a flashback.

  13. I am so glad I am not alone! I too have my black and fuschia polka dot Caboodle since 1990 which now houses Star Wars figures. I keep one earring b/c I remember when…I am a sentimental keeper of old…I’ve gotten better about giving up, but it comes hard to me. Great sock story!

  14. I remember a pair of socks that I got at the GAP to perfectly match a sweater I got there. The socks were comfy and I LOVED them so much. They were a sage-ish color and I wore them all the time, until sometime in the late 90s I accidentally washed one of those socks with the whites that got bleached and it turned orange. I tried to bleach the other one to match it, but alas it didn’t turn orange at all. I was devestated.

    I wonder what happened to those socks.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Copyright © 2023 SECRET AGENT MAMA
Creative Commons License by Michelle Lane is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
MLP logo by Inksplash Designs - Webmaster: Michael