Socks: To Be or Not to Be

Morning rituals, learned by watching, carried forward long after the reasons have changed.

I’ve been thinking a lot about socks; not wearing them that is. Now that my coat and tie, 8 to 5 days are gone, I am looking to simplify? 

Letting-go, however, of this article is easier said than done.  

From the Latin soccus, meaning a light, low heeled foot covering; socks have been around since the Stone age, 5000 BC. Animal skin and plants, or straw were first used as functionaries for the feet.

Wool and cotton followed, with the knitting machine modernizing the sock for comfort in the 16th century. The 20th century brought nylon and other fabrics into the equation. 

Sheec Socks, a distributor of the garment with a blog site, says there are half socks, no show socks, ankle, crew and performance socks and a host of other specialty socks.

I don’t recall ever being told where in the dressing ritual socks should be slipped on; at the start, after pulling on my underwear, or just before I put on my shoes. 

Growing up, my bedroom was across the hall from my parents. Our doors were usually left open in the morning hours. Over the years I’d gander glimpses of my dad’s morning routine.

Sitting on his bedside, he readied for work. A starched white dress shirt draped down over his torso, its tail dangled over his boxer shorts. With surgical precision he’d pull on stretch black nylon socks that he’d carefully affix to a garter strap around his knees; his after-shave permeated about. I never knew what kind it was, a mixture of sweet hay, wood and some spice.  

After being satisfied his nylons would stay-up for the day, he’d stand in front of a large floor mirror, starch collar sticking upwards, and configure the tie-of-the-day into a windsor knot, carefully watching the detail of his job. He never needed more than a once-through for this feat. He secured the job with a tie pin, his favorite was a small diamond.

In the last steps of his morning routine, he'd pull on cuffed suit pants, then a belt, usually, saying to my mother, who was also dressing, “Marion, you feed me too much.”  

He’d return to his bedside, take Wing Tip black shoes off a rack, and sit lacing them up. A black, or gray suit coat complementing his pants would follow. 

From the top shelf of his closet he’d take down a Shoebay hat with a small red feather stuck in the band and place it atop his bald pate. He’d take one last look-over in the mirror, measuring his white moustache for changes, then kiss my mom goodbye, calling out to me,“stay out of the Principles office.” 

Outside our home, I could hear him start-up his forest green Triumph Herald, shift it out of the driveway and gun it up the street.  

We are all products of where we came from. While one’s dress attire was not a dinner topic in my household, my parents believed appearance was important; thus they had an affinity for clothes.

Their lessons to me were not imparted singularly about how to dress, but came through modeling, not authoritatively prescribed.

But as to the wearing of socks?

In my early days in the adult work force my first job was working for an international company, a tie and sportcoat was the rule. No one then asked about my choice of sock style. 

It was second nature for me to buy the knee-high nylons, garter belt aside, more as a tribute to my dad and it was what I knew.    

As my work history turned from sales in the corporate world, to teaching, to newspaper reporting, to mental health counseling, so did my choice and requirement of wardrobe. My nylon knee-highs evolved or devolved into calf-high cottons.  

Now, semi-retired, I find comfort in ankle-high golf socks, white ones at that. They are easier to slip on.

I’d always heard that as one ages feet get larger because the foot muscles weaken, thus the foot size for shoes and possibly even socks needs to go up one size. 

I wear size 11 shoes. I don’t relish having to buy size 12’s. I have noticed that my ankle socks seem more holey with a tear here and there. Socks sizes, unlike shoes, come in small, medium and large and extra large. Extra large is shoe size 13 and larger. So, with socks I am still in the large category. 

As I said, the next step to ease my angst might be to disregard socks. 

There are celebrities who go sockless. Tucker Carlson, the avant garde podcaster, can be seen in public settings dressed in casual attire, but sockless.

The tall-haired morning MSNBC talk show host Joe Scarborough also seems to prefer the sockless look, as does actor Idris Elba. The Rock and Ryan Reynolds are seen bare ankled too. 

They all seem pretentious though going sockless, making a statement of some kind which I haven’t figured out. Will this look become a trend like other clothing accessories?

The wearing of top hats have declined greatly over the past sixty-plus years. Kennedy was often seen hat less. Customary for presidential inaugurations, LBJ was the first president to go hatless at his swearing in.

The common use of the automobile made wearing a top hat uncomfortable and the advent of the rebellious 60’s contributed to the demise of this accessory as part of common men’s attire. 

There are no stats about the trend of men going sockless. But there is a style called the mankle which touts ways to go sockless. The style is related to the mercury level, a warm month's option to donning socks. 

Regardless of it all, this daily routine brings on a memory which I am grateful for. And I’ll keep at it for a while. 

For it is, every now and then, sitting on my bed pulling on my ankle socks, a whiff of long ago comes about with the image of my dad affixing his nylons. And I smile…

Author's Note: Some essays are a blend of fact and fiction; the fiction portions of the work mostly related to the change of names within an essay.