Friday, April 9, 2010
more like smogs.
Nostalgia plays a big part in my life. Or is a big presence in my life (would probably be a less depressing way of wording it.)
I thoroughly enjoy the notion of it and the warm tingles it gives me all over my limbs and up and down my spine.
That being said, I've made a considerable amount of interesting decisions throughout my history of dressing myself and when it comes to my wardrobe, nostalgia, oddly enough, isn't always enough for me to venture back in time or to the back of my closet.
I can't remember if I ended up with "the clogs" when I was a hippie for Halloween (something like 4th/5th grade) or if it wasn't until 7th grade, when my mom's best friend gave me some of her old clothes while I was in Grease but, somehow I ended up with heeled clogs. I loved them more than you can imagine; more than I care to remember in fact. Loved them so much that I wore these heeled clogs until my parents (in a rare moment of wardrobe intervention) made me get rid of them due to the fact that they were falling apart and so were my hereditarily-weak ankles.
To this day I'm not entirely sure why I loved those clogs as much as I did.
I mean, they were clogs! They inherently had practically everything working against them. The reemergence of clogs for the spring only serves to reinforce my stance to never look back when it comes to clogs. I say it here and now: fuck. that. shit.
Most of my past poor choices (that year I wore only my father's large t shirts and sweat pants) I can justify, or even not feel ashamed of. Most of these past discrepancies usually serve to somehow make me appreciate things in my present life. Not with clogs though. For how much I loved those damned heeled clogs in the '90s I see or feel nothing redeeming or warm when I see a clog these days.
Perhaps, my admiration for the clogs had just been a misplaced sense of nostalgia for a time I wasn't even close to be being born into. (Heck, my parents weren't even old enough to be hippies.) I'll tell you what though- no matter how many magazines I see them in, or how many designers want me to think they're the cats pajamas I WILL NOT give in, these will not be words I eat because let's face it. Clogs are dumb, and ugly and if I was forced at gun-point these are the only ones I would ever wear: