stocking feet

Socks are an odd adornment. You'd think they'd suffer a little from identity as to whether they belong with outerwear or underwear. But they know how to make themselves shine. They seem to be just as comfortably aligned with outerwear as in "socks and shoes" as they are lined up with underwear while sharing the same drawer space. I don't really think of them as 'underwear', but that is usually where you find them in a department store: on the edges of the 'lingerie' department and not beside the shoe department. Sometimes they become part of the 'accessories' department which also usually hugs lingerie. But unlike other underwear, the waistband of the Fruit of the Looms, or the skinny bra strap, or the hem of the slip, socks are meant to be seen. They peek out cheekily from the bottom of the pants (trouser) leg and the top of the shoe. There is always that dilemma as to whether to match them with the shoes or the outfit.

And a wrongly chosen sock can destroy an outfit and certainly alter another's opinion of yourself in the process (especially if they don't match). Your choice of hosiery may end up saying more about yourself than you ever imagined. You can get away with the hearts, cheeky messages, hockey logos, or cartoons on your briefs secure in the knowledge that only those of your choosing will ever actually see them. But socks have a way of being noticed by others. Are you an all black or only white sock kind of person? Or do you like a bit of argyle, some pattern, or a splash of colour? Or a Hello Kitty draped over your calf?

My niece (who is 30) loves to wear fancy socks. She has patterns and themes and drawings and bows and sparkles on all of her socks. I would not be caught be dead wearing such things. I like mine to be plain. Preferably black or brown, or maybe a beige for the spring. When I am heading out to visit a client at their home I take particular care to the socks I wear. One does not want to discover that one has decorated feet with obviously faded, or worn out and pilled socks. Or the ultimate horror: holey socks.

Socks are made for comfort as well as for style.

And now there are scented socks. Chenille slipper socks infused with microcapsules of lavender, green tea, eucalyptus, mango, green apple, rosewater, chocolate. I'm thinking that for my massage appointments, I could bring a selection. While my healing hands melt away tension, aromatherapy from my feet wafts upwards.

I'm wearing Eucalyptus. Waiting for my flu to be drawn out though my heavenly scented feet.