Floppy Sock

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What has been the worst part about winter thus far?

If you are living in southern Ontario, you may say the amount of snow or the frigid temperatures. If you are living on the East Coast, you may say the frequency of intense storms.

I have lived in both regions, and have endured the cold, weathered the storms, and shoveled mounds of snow. Better yet, I have dealt with driving in Toronto after a dusting of snow snowstorms.

But now that I live in the Arctic, I have a different notion of “winter.” I can honestly say that I can handle the freezing temperatures and the harsh weather (though the jury is still out on whether I can sanely handle the lack of sunlight). Yeah, the cold is cold, and some days are worse than others, but it is nothing proper winter gear can’t fix.

What I’m finding I can’t handle about winter anymore is floppy sock.

Floppy sock? (To be clear, I’m not referring to the Urban Dictionary definition). It’s when the shitty elastic in your sock gives out as you walk, causing your sock to partially or fully come off your foot. You end up with your sock dangling from your toes, or worse, it falls off completely and you have to dig into your boot and get it out and put it back on.

Floppy sock sucks. Everyone has experienced it, but nothing can be done about it. I specifically choose my socks to avoid floppy sock, but I have not succeeded in finding a pair of socks that does not result in floppy sock. Even my awesome merino wool socks – where one pair costs almost twice as much as a 20-pack of white athletic socks – are not immune to floppy sock.

I have suffered from this problem since late October, when it got cold enough outside that I could no longer wear my rain boots and instead opted for my big, warm, amazing winter boots.

I have a 12-minute walk to work everyday. I get all bundled up to go to work, and as I walk I feel my sock slowly slipping off. I can’t simply stop in the middle of my walk to pull my sock back up. I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work because it just falls right back down again moments later. I have to suck it up and get to my office before I can adequately address the floppy sock situation.

There are different degrees of floppy sock. Sometimes when it happens the sock partially dangles off your foot, but for the most part the integrity of the sock has remained intact. Sometimes, it slowly descends down your foot and as it comes off; you try to mitigate the inevitable “floppiness” by arching your foot, in other words, you try to “catch” it before it slips off completely. Now the worst degree of floppy sock is as soon as you start walking – BOOM – it’s already off and you ask yourself, “How the fuck did that happen? I just put my fucking boots on!”

Then there is floppy sock on a whole other level – the Sophie’s Choice of floppy sock. This arises in the form of what I like to call, “dually floppy sock.” This phenomenon occurs when both socks either come off half way or all the way. There is nothing you can do about this. You try to rationalize which sock to salvage; you ask yourself, “Which one do I save first?” But there is no right answer.

I wonder sometimes if I should be more consumed with the snot running down my nose or the fact that my eyelashes stick together from my tears caused by the blowing wind. But NO, what I worry about is my god damned floppy sock.

This is an open plea to sock manufacturers everywhere:

STOP FLOPPY SOCK, FOR THE SANITY OF YOUR CLIENTS THAT LIVE IN WINTRY CONDITIONS.

Oh, by the way: those in southern Canada may soon have reprieve from the “long” winter they’ve had thus far, as spring is soon (if not already) upon them. They can pack away their winter boots and opt for a pair of rain boots or even sneakers. I, on the other hand, will most likely have to wear my winter boots well into May. That means approximately one more month of floppy sock. In total I will have dealt with at least eight months of full-blown floppy sock. And what do I get to look forward to next? Roughly four months of partial floppy sock and/or occasional floppy sock, as I transition out of my winter boots and into my rain boots (floppy socks are a real deal in my rain boots, too).

Wish me luck – my sanity depends on it.

Or better yet, someone send me a pair of Uggs. I don’t have to wear socks in those.

Stephanie Maragna grew up in the heart of Toronto, but has recently lived in remote Northern Ontario. This means she can both properly back-comb hair and fearlessly fight fire. Stephanie moved to Iqaluit in May 2013 and has been smashing Grind & Brew pizza ever since.