Slipshod
Some call them thongs, others call them flipflops, and still others probably call them something else.
Every summer since I was a girl I’ve had a pair of these sandals which consist of a foam sole, attached in front to a v-shaped strap shooting out from a rubber rod to be clung between Digitus I and II of the feet.
Only two good things can be said about these shoes.
The first is that they are cheap. Usually a buck or two in any supermarket or jumbly seaside boutique that also sells postcards, thimbles depicting landmarks, and inflatable jungle beasts for bobbing on the water’s surface.
Recently, I’ve noticed upscale versions of flipflops in the aisles on my local shops – boasting fancy fabric, sequins, bows and beads, and selling for ludicrous prices to pitiful souls who just never learn.
Regardless of price and baubles, these sandals are un-wearable. The problem is that they are so easy to slip on, which makes them very tempting when running out to the mailbox, for a quick jaunt through the vines with the pups, or for strolling along the beach looking for washed-up bags of cash.
But, three steps into your walk, you will remember why you hate them so.
For them to stay on, you are forced to cramp your toes into the rubber sole to maintain some sort of grip. Pebbles, sand, grass, anything on your path will jump right in and grit and poke and generally annoy your feet, which are already having enough of a time just keeping the damn things on.
Granted, they do make a rather fun click-clack sound. Unless of course they’re wet, in which case it’s more of a squeak-shlook, and your already tenuous grip is fully gone as they swivel left and shlook right, the rubber rod ramming the toes, while your heels tramp alongside.
Their inability to be worn comfortably in the presence of sand and water makes one wonder how it is they are so ubiquitous on the world’s beaches. Maybe it’s because they float. Maybe more shoes should float.
By the end of the summer, they have been flattened to the shape of your foot, if not already eaten by the dog or carried away to sea (with the bags of cash).
Which brings us to the second good thing about flipflops: you’re never sorry to see them go.
Next year, I will buy another pair. Maybe with sequins this time.
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Comment
- It’s that feeling of something jammed between my toes that got me to stop wearing flip-flops when I was a kid. I hated getting toe-wedgies from my socks, I reasoned, so why would I want to pay for footwear whose only method of staying put on my feet was to give me one big, painful, continuous, rubber-coated toe-wedgie. Ick.
— listless Aug 20, 7:46am # - I have only one word for you: Scholl.
— Simon Hughes Aug 20, 10:03am # - You have mentioned the very reasons I really like this sort of footwear: what better way to get in touch with your inner grit?
Sorry- couldn’t help myself… it just jives so seamlessly with my site theme:)
I always enjoy your posts. One last thought, when you garden alot, or go to the beach, there is something to be said for easy on /easy off shoes. Now before I say something about “nitty-gritty” or something equally inane- adieu.
— ilona Aug 20, 11:31am # - “Zoris”.
Bags of cash?
What beaches do you frequent?
They were a constant part of my beaches-of-California childhood. As were the scraped toe-knuckles of exactly what you say, the slip off being just as quick as the on, even when unintended, and the toes already scrunched up, hitting the concrete…
Also once to prove my acrobatic skills like the big kids, putting my feet on the axle-nuts of the front wheels of my bike, and the zori flopping just enough sideways to get caught in the spokes and pull my foot just hard enough that it mangled my extremities, and pride, and bike.
“Zori” is like “pluto platter”. I had one of those too.
— Lance Boyle Aug 20, 3:47pm # - If your slippers (that’s what I call them) hurt, that means you’re walking
too fast. Slippers are a lifestyle. They’re for living at a leisurely pace.
My people (japanese american’s from hawaii) probably came out of the womb
with slipper-ready feet. If you were to walk around town in shoes other than
“slippas” (local accent pronunciation), someone is bound to say “Eh! Who you
tink you are in da fancy shoes?”
— Joy Aug 20, 6:11pm # - My new game is to count the number of pair of black kitten-heeled flipflops spotted while walking downtown. The record so far is 6.
— cmb Aug 21, 7:31am # - I have what’s called “morton’s toe” (just about everyone in my paternal lineage has it) and while it’s not painful, it’s gawk-worthy since the second toe is at least a joint longer than the big toe. I have no “ugly foot” esteem issues after wearing flip-flops living in Florida and being part of the varsity swim team.
One person, in high school, asked what was wrong with my toes. I said, “Morton’s Toe, it’s actually more common than you think.” To which this person replied it was “completely gross” and how she would never wear sandals, let along flip-flops if her toes were that weird. To which I replied, “It’s certainly better than having moronic tendencies and opening your mouth painfully confirms it.” Two friends who were with me just laughed as this girl gave me the doggy-tilt-the-head quizzical expression.
So I wear my flip-flops without a second thought. And I don’t know if the Morton’s Toe has anything to do with it, but those 2 for $5 flip-flops have always been comfortable.
I also determined two years ago that while a shoe may be constructed on the pattern of a flip-flop, if it cost more than $5 a pair and wear more than a season, they’re upgraded to sandal status.
— roggey Aug 21, 8:44am # - Roggey ought to look at any Renaissance or Baroque drawing of the human foot – you will find that the second toe is almost always the longest, and are in possession of an ideal.
— Franklin Aug 21, 3:34pm # - Having a very blunt foot, or rather two of them, those girly pointed shoes just don’t work for me, especially the currently fashionable ones that look like so many eel snouts.
Several years ago I found a variation on a flip-flop theme at my local Target store. The base was made of high-density black foam, and the toe of them was almost squared off. Very Japanese-looking, except for the black sequins, which I ripped off.
I bought ten pairs for $2 each, and that was my shoe wardrobe for several years, an ascetic minimalist’s dream. I wore them with socks, usually striped, year round (ah, California!). My students called me ‘Ninja-feet.’
— wizmo Aug 21, 4:57pm # - Then there was the bloke with two left feet: he used to wear flipflips.
— Nick Aug 22, 4:44am # - Don’t get me started on flipflops. They are the best footwear in the galaxy but thanks to a conspiracy by western government they are almost impossible to buy in Europe. We need to know which part of the GATT is causing this.
Cass
— Cancergiggles Aug 23, 2:24am # - In my fair country we call them Jandals. The kiwi original.
— amber Aug 23, 3:03am # - Slip-slops, people. Slip-slops!
— michele Aug 26, 9:22am # - They can be called Chanklas where I come from.
Apparently Latino children are hit about the head and neck with them on a regular basis.
— Aaron Aug 28, 1:14pm # - the slipshod mucus of your morning kiss (from some poem by E. E. Cummings)
Growing up in the mild climates of Miami and San Francisco, I wore flipflops (“zoris” in Miami) so much that I think my toes ‘molded’ around the toe post. So (unlike you, Gail) I never have any problem keeping them on, and I can still flip them off effortlessly when I need to by making just the slightest, unconscious adjustment to my toe spacing. Now, here in DC, I wear them whenever I can, even through the winter. My shoe preference has limited my career choices, though, since I refuse to work anywhere I can’t wear them.
In recent years, my favorite type of flipflop, the classic cheap, flimsy one made of pink, yellow, blue or green rubber with a white upper surface, has become almost impossible to find, at least around here. Now they’re all clunky and black, or gaudily printed, or covered with bumps, and they’re all outrageously expensive. Just another example of something that has happened again and again in my life: everything I love disappears.
— eric Aug 28, 8:00pm # - I’ve owned a number of flipflops, both rubbery and dressy ones. In order for these shoes to stay put, you have to choose the size carefully. Of course, the model and shape and type of sole matters a lot.
— flipflops and thong sandals barefoot Sep 9, 5:47pm # - In Brazil they’re called havaianas, which is both a brand name and the generic term, and means Hawaiian. Portuguese sailors gave Hawaii the ukulele and Hawaii returned the favor by giving Brazil the flipflop, apparently.
True capital-B Havaianas cost a buck a pair and come in a million colors, except for the high-fashion lines which run $100 or more, largely designed for export (Madonna wears them! goodness!).
My favorite pair of flipflops used to be a brand called “Locals” which I bought for a non-touristy price at a grocery store on the non-touristy side of Kaua’i. They had Polynesian petroglyphs on them and I guess the idea was for them to be a statement of cultural identity, which means of course that this haole snapped them up.
Now my favorites are a pair of Havainas, white with a small Brazilian flag logo and thin stripes of green and gold running around the outside of the foam, a souvenir from Rio. Another cultural statement and they go well with the white linen shirts I wear in the summer.
There. Am I a metrosexual now?
— Prentiss Riddle Sep 10, 8:02am # - Oh, yeah. 25 years ago in Austin the rage was a flipflop with an extra-thick sole and thongs made of surgical tubing. They were marketed under the name “Boobies”, the idea being that wearing them was as comfortable as walking on same! Anybody else remember them?
— Prentiss Riddle Sep 10, 8:28am # - My french man calls them pontoufle. Doubtful that’s the correct spelling, but he pronounces it something like pon-tu-fla.
— Melanie Sep 11, 11:24pm #
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