Q: Dear Greek God of Style, What do you think about socks? Specifically my socks? Would you want to come over and see my sock drawers? I have three drawers full of socks. I have blue socks, striped socks, polka dot socks, red, black, and teal socks, argyle socks, pink socks, chevron socks. So many socks. I am free on Tuesdays. And I know you are too. - Timmy in Tulsa
A: Dear Stocking Stalker, Contrary to popular belief, I do not make time for house calls, unless there is a damsel in fashion distress or unless a fashion intervention is warranted. On the topic of intervention, desperation comes in many forms (see the Dateless in Dayton articles).
The discussion of your socks is a bit disturbing to me. These "wrappers of rot" do not need further attention on my part. If you have studied previous volumes of my column, you would know that socks for me are typically never worn.
Therefore the chaff you're spreading about your collection has me wondering about how you present yourself to the world. Is this your fashion flair, hiding behind a cloak of poorly crafted denim? Cargo pants, no doubt. I can imagine there are bowling shirts in your collection, or screen-printed button-ups! I think I saw you in town strutting with square toe slip-on shoes . . . and gaudily clad ankles.
Let me ask you this, Timmy. If at the end of a long night, after you've hoodwinked a women to "come see your sock collection" and when your loose-fit jeans fall easily to the floor and are subsequently hung on the door handle by their hammer hook, you still have two problems. 1) You're standing there in your uneventful skivvies and 2) There are those socks. Lord help us! Do you plan on keeping those on during business time or will you grace her with your swollen kankles?
I know you've been stalking me Timmy. That's OK. Perhaps scraps of style will grace you from my wake.