One of the Big Questions in life, a question that seems to me to have long captured the fascinated interest of most thinking people (and even my own fascinated interest) is, of course, the nearly infinitely debatable and exciting question of whether one should match the color of one’s socks to one’s shoes, or to one’s pants?
Tragically, that’s not the question I have been asked to talk about today. I say “tragically” because it seems to me inconceivable that anyone could be genuinely indifferent to the question.
After all, the more you allow yourself to think about how to coordinate socks, the more of an exciting mystery it becomes. One question leads to another, and then to another. Before you know it, you are just as wrapped up in the questions as, say, your feet are wrapped up in a pair of fine dress socks made of wool blended with a bit of spandex or elastane for stretch.
Some folks — who were, I’m saddened to say, no doubt emotionally shallow people — have listened to me go on about socks only to state, “Paul, your problem is not socks, your problem is you have no life. Let’s go catch a film, go to the bars, or at least do something!”, but how can it possibly be true that I have no life when I as a man have boldly sought the truth of “Cotton or Wool?”; bravely faced without fear the dark issue of “Black or Midnight Navy Blue”; and even courageously written to my Senator on the pressing need to combat the evils of paisley?
Alas! None of that matters now! For the otherwise kind and obviously intelligent lady who emailed me yesterday morning from (I’m pretty sure) South Africa regrettably failed to even mention socks, but merely wrote instead, “I have been pouring over some of your old ‘Saturday’s Nude’ posts from years ago in which you posted amazingly beautiful art photos of nudes, and I would so enjoy hearing your opinion of whether I’m pretty when nude. Please find attached numerous high resolution pics of me without my clothes”.
“Enjoy?” “Enjoy!” What a strange and peculiar word for her to use when savagely inflicting upon herself the tragedy of failing to ask my opinion of socks! Does she even know what a thrilling discourse she’s missing? What a life enhancing experience she’s passing by?