October 10, 2006
How apt that at the premiere of the movie Infamous, a shoe that will forever live in infamy in my eyes made a red-carpet appearance.
Repeat after me: Crocs are not okay. Crocs are not okay. Crocs are NOT OKAY.
I mean... look: If you're in the garden elbows-deep in an afternoon of weeding, I'll concede that Crocs make an ounce of sense. And I can even apply that outward to jobs where you're on your feet all day. I understand that Mario Batali is a busy man, and that maybe his feet get swollen from running around the kitchen all day screaming orders at people; if he wants to tell me that Crocs are the only shoe that can get the dogs to stop barking, so to speak, then fine. Sure. But there's no reason he should be wearing the Rubber Menace to a movie premiere. I don't care if he thinks they're his signature in the kitchen. He is not IN the kitchen. He is at a premiere, and Sandra Bullock is in a GOWN, and he's wearing a fleece, shorts, and filthy rubber clogs, like he just managed to squeeze in his paper route between the lunch service and the event start time.
PLAN AHEAD, Mario. Throw some loafers, or sneakers, or platform thigh-highs -- ANYTHING -- in the car and change on the way there. I'm sorry that you've become the poster child for this crime against global retinas, but so be it. We cannot allow the ghoulish Rubber Menace to become the sort of perceived all-purpose footwear that the Ugg boot has become; we cannot allow our impressionable starlets to think it's acceptable to start pairing them with skirts, or dresses, or evening gowns. They cannot cross into Formal Shoe country. We must, in honor of the late Steve Irwin, become Croc Hunters. Constant vigilence, people. It's the only way.
Posted by Heather at 10:52 AM | Permalink