Fall Shoes Pt. 1: Clogs

Let's talk fall shoes.

First installment: CLOGS.

Clogs generally have a bad reputation because they embody the three C's: clunky, chunky and crunchy. Their clunky and chunky vibes are interchangeable and they're crunchy (at least to me) because I envision them on the feet of a Subaru-driving, granola-eating, 1995 LL Bean-vest-wearing mom. I also associate them with Vermont and the time I had threw my twelve year old body on the floor of the Vermont Country Store because my parents wouldn't buy me a pair of purple felt clogs.

But I'm not talking about felt clogs or Birkenstock clogs, the latter of which I wore exclusively with a North Face fleece and Miss Sixty jeans in 7th grade. I'm talking three-inch wooden heeled clogs.

I'm not sure why most shoppers balk at the thought of clunky shoes. I consider myself to be a refined lady and I like a chunk of a shoe. I appreciate chlunky footwear for announcing their presence loud and clear: 'we are shoes, we have a purpose, and we aren't going to hide.'

Clogs announce their presence more than any other shoe entirely because of the loud clunking sound they make. While the click of stilettos suggests someone intimidating is about to enter the room, the clunk of clogs screams quirky. Quirky people wear clogs and that's why I like them, wear them, and just bought my second pair.

I bought the first pair during my first week of studying abroad in Paris. They were 30 euro at a shoe store by my school and I bought them for no reason except that they were shoes and I had just made 30 euro babysitting so why not even it all out with a material transaction. I kept them in my closet for a good four months before I finally wore them and when I did, I tripped all over myself and the sidewalk.

I bought the second pair an hour ago because I decided that in the name of being 23, I'm going to embrace being a strong, independent woman this fall and what better way to do so than by wearing heeled shoes? That's a quote from my internal monologue you lucky readers. I also had a vision of chunky clogs with wool socks and white ankle jeans and so I said, sign me up, debit card, let's do this thang.

Here are the ones I just bought, courtesy of Free People. The first pair (not pictured) are eerily similar to this second pair except they're brown and don't have a back strap. Tant pis.