So That's a Hard No on Sheer Socks Then

So That's a Hard No on Sheer Socks Then

I’ve been basically intrigued by the possibilities of socks in fashion since I saw Carrie Bradshaw roll up to interview her new assistant in the first Sex and the City movie, wearing knee socks.  However, I’ve never cracked it.  I own three pairs of “fancy socks” and so far my only foray that I’ve felt okay about was wearing Gorman socks with ladies on under slightly cropped jeans.  So obviously, the solution was to buy this pair of sheer, red socks with hearts on them *rolls eyes at own idiocy*

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First up, never buy a pair of socks if they are “one size fits all”.  This is sage advice once given to me by a man I was dating, but I ignored that good advice.  Not every relationship works out, but that was a useful takeaway so we’ll chalk that one up as a win. I put these socks on in the quiet solitude of my apartment, and then wondered aloud: “what is the average size of a foot, exactly”.  At the risk of destroying my Google algorithm and getting weird links to foot fetish sites, I Googled the answer.  In the US, it’s somewhere between an 8.5 and 9 (so a EU39).  I suspect NZ is probably pretty similar.  Let’s maybe make our socks (a) in proper sizes or (b) marginally larger at full stretch.

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However, even if these socks had fit me to a tee they would still have been for the high jump, as my mother would say.   Red, sheer, socks.  Megan Blenkarne, you are a fool – obviously these look like I have some kind of desperate skin condition.  A red “glow” to the skin is not a flattering look.  In addition, I am not cute.  I did a quick image search to see how these are styled on the internet, and there was a lot of hard core 1950s girliness going on that I cannot pull off.  Nobody finds it believable when I wear a poodle skirt and talk about going to the soda fountain.  Styling these socks up to that reference was just never going to work.

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As you can see, I tried to balance the socks by going with something different.  I hoped that if I kept the rest of the outfit to basic clean shapes, and mirrored the red somewhere else, I could somehow pull it all together.  The pants were necessary because the socks cut me off at a terrible point on my leg that made my leg look like that of an elephant: completely straight up and down, not an ankle to be seen, basically just a solid flesh trunk.   However, the dress hem plus pant hem plus sock plus ankle strap is all just too much and the whole thing felt (and looks) bulky and fussy and overdone.  This same outfit without the socks might be more of a winner (especially if it were cooler and I was also wearing a black turtleneck).

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I can safely say I will never wear this outfit again and, in fact, I destroyed the socks on my first and only outing in them.  Not only will I not be wearing these particular socks again, I will not be buying another pair.  Sometimes you just have to accept that a particular fashion item is not for you and I, truthfully, am not on board with ankle socks now and I doubt I ever will be, and I fully acknowledge and accept that these socks were not “fun” and “quirky” and were in fact not for me.  I tried on a ludicrous number of outfits to get to this entirely mediocre effort, which I consider further evidence that this is a hard no for me.

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However, I’m not giving up on socks entirely.  I still think knee length socks have real potential (if I can get past the school girl connotations they create for me) and I still love a cheeky patterned sock under jeans or peeking out of the top of boots.  Just let this be a reminder and a lesson to us all – choose your socks wisely, lest they fail to fit you both physically and psychologically.  

PS: yes, one of the buttons on my dress is undone. I only realised when I got home and took off the dress, and I was not in the mood to reshoot, so let’s just make believe it’s done up :)