Stepping Out Into 2023

If, as good old Polonius said, 'apparel oft proclaims the man,' what personality traits are betrayed by the clothes we own but choose not to wear? For example, my chest of drawers is full of fancy cashmere dress socks that have never experienced the indignity of being pulled on to my feet. These are the socks of princes. Beautiful specimens of the hosier's art woven in luxurious shades of grey and tan that are simply too nice to suffer such a hideous and undeserved fate.

I don't even dare separate the individual socks apart from their lush, crinkly packaging. They still reside in the elegant drawstring tote bag from the store, ceremoniously placed inside by the shop assistant as if they were priceless diamonds. The sort of majestic socks that should only be laundered in asses milk by sensuous Egyptian handmaidens; masterpiece socks you might rush into a burning building to save from the philistine flames. Meanwhile, in the drawer below, down-at-heel cotton socks bunched up in balls slowly smolder with resentment.

Life isn't fair, especially if you're a pair of cotton socks. And in fact I've begun to feel sorry for them. Perhaps, I think, it is time for the cotton socks to un-ball themselves and rise unfettered from their servitude to overthrow the cashmere sock monarchy. Yes, maybe the fancy cashmere socks should do some work for a change, see how they like being stuffed into size nine clodhoppers and frogmarched around town; being tossed unceremoniously into the laundry hamper, washed on warm and cold rinsed then power dried with my underwear and towels. 

And I did briefly consider wearing a par of my beautiful cashmere socks on January 1st: a hedonistic resolution to start 2023 as I meant to go on, in mindless extravagance and high style. But I faltered at the crucial moment. Like an unworthy questing knight denied a vision of the Holy Grail, I lacked the courage and purity of heart to break the cashmere sock drawer's sacred seal and reveal the treasures within. So I cravenly snatched a pair of my old comfortable workhorse cotton socks instead, striding into the New Year with all the panache of a couch potato accidentally kicking an empty chip bowl across the carpet.

But then New Years Day is a holiday, after all; a day more suited to lounging around in fleece lined slippers and flannel pajamas than cashmere socks, opera pumps and a tuxedo. I had no place to go, nobody to impress, no shoe-removing function at the Japanese embassy to attend. So why soil a pair of perfectly good, not mention very expensive, cashmere socks for no good reason? Their time will come, I'm sure. The occasion will surely arise that calls for feet sheathed in lustrous fibers. I'm just hoping I'm invited to such an event before it turns out to be my own funeral.

Comments

[Tatyana]

My cashmere soX seems to be...bone china coffee set! I have a beautiful one, delicate and so thin it's almost transparent. Resolved to carpe diem - and use it, finally, instead of admiring it for years from afar.
The result...same as yours.

We are hopeless

[Stephenesque]

At least china can be displayed even if you don’t use it! Happy New Year!