June 24, 2003

It’s going to be a long summer. Hell, it might as well be, since, at least in Philadelphia, we had no spring to speak of. But the impending long hot summer, at least from my perspective, has little to do with the temperature outside -- though you might want to check back with me in August on that one -- and more to do with a seasonal fashion disaster in the making.

First off: I hate sandals.

There, I said it. I hate sandals of any and all types, when worn by virtually anyone, particularly men. Men should not wear sandals. Period. (Okay, at least men over the age of, say, 24.)

But even more than I hate sandals, I hate “flip-flops.” On anyone. Female or male. Young or old. And especially when flip-flops are worn as “street wear.”

Now, to my great dismay, I see that flip-flops, which, as my friends will tell you I have referred to unceasingly for the past 20 years as “always the wrong choice,” are making a big comeback in New York, at inflated prices and in ridiculous designs, of course. (They’re also already big in Philadelphia this summer, too, though I’m not sure it’s for the same reasons.)

I’m not going to like this. I’m not going to like it one bit. I’ll deal with it, of course, but if you have any interest at all in making my summer something less than a living hell, I’d ask those who choose to adopt this latest fad to take heed of Ji Baek’s admonition, noted in the Observer, namely, WASH YOUR FEET!:

There’s nothing as embarrassing or unelegant or unsexy or wretchedly ugly and unattractive as black heels when you see people walk. Like, to me, I cringe -- like, “Oh, gross!”…Rubber flip-flops are wretched for your feet. I hate those things.

I’m right there with you, sister.


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