The vernal equinox has come and gone and though it might still feel brisk in various pockets of this great nation, one fact is irrefutable: it’s clog time.\n
It’s nice to just slide into a shoe that doesn’t require any further effort. Fuck laces. Fuck zippers. Give me something into which I can gently wedge my tamale foot and be off—to the farmer’s market, darling, or to the corner store, or maybe just wherever the hell I want, because I’m comfortable and fashionable and also casual and breezy! There I go, traipsing to meet my lover, who will ply me with ceramics and dried lavender and a single macaron.
What’s in my bag? According to my clogs: a waterloggedClogs are not for everyone, including but not limited to Deadspin editor in chief Megan Greenwell, who expressed to me that her spring shoe of choice is a loafer, not a clog, “because I am not Danish nor Mario Batali.” While both these things are true for me, to the other Megan, I say, pooh pooh. It’s clog time, bitch! Gimme clogs.