Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Clogs: What the hell

My magazine told me that Crocs were in. I read the sentence again about twelve times, to find that it actually said clogs; yet my anguish was reduced only infinitessimally.
What the hell.
To my understanding, these are clogs:

I might as well get it out in the open now: I own clogs. They were a sad by-product of a holiday in Holland. What are they? The Dutch failed attempts at early shoes? I can only imagine the sort of foot-related ailments these would cause. So naturally, when I saw the word 'clogs,' I spent a few distressed seconds imagining a wave of yellow wooden slabs, actively and happily vile.
Topshop's versions:

While slightly less vile than I feared, they manage to be hideous and elegant at the same time. You have to respect that clumpy, woody goodness. But I was suspicious: I feared there must be some greater ugliness lurking below the surface.

There is. 'Swedish Hasbeens,' who must be ecstatic that clogs are actually in fashion, have created these ugly shits. It's the yellow again. These must be the closest you can get to wearing clogs without actually wearing clogs (which should be punishable by death), and this deeply disturbs me.
Clogs - why? Why would you resurrect these ugly dogs? It's Chanel's fault - the same Chanel who caused Topshop to have a 'Temporary Tattoos' section on their website. I think Chanel are laughing as they increase the ugliness of our appearances bit by bit.

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