Socks ought to be one of life’s great equalisers. We all wear them; and almost all of us recognise that they are but a minor part of our apparel. There should be little controversy over a sock.
At the onset of the current heatwave, I discovered to my consternation that my last pair of trainer socks had disintegrated to the point of no return. This created a conundrum, as I had been planning to wear shorts, but obviously had no wish to leave the house with bare knees and socks up around my calves.
Thankfully, the local Tesco had just what I needed, so the panic was short-lived. But as I left the store, my mind dominated by thoughts of hosiery, I happened to see some people basking in the sun wearing not only shorts and long socks, but also sandals. And these were not older people, out campaigning for the Lib Dems, but youngsters of an age that would know better than I what constitutes cool.
Sure enough, it seems that far from being an issue that brooks no argument, socks are actually a key generational dividing line. Not only will members of Gen Z find no fault with a longer stocking, but they are actually a “vibe”, as my daughter might put it. Socks halfway to the knee can be paired with anything, from brogues to trainers and even flip-flops. Equally, it is apparently acceptable not to wear socks at all, whatever the circs. Anything goes it seems, with all the hose advances of the last 30 years completely lost.
Trainer socks (aka sports socks) might have first emerged in the 1970s, but they were popularised in the 1990s, and I think can reasonably stand as one of the finest achievements of Generation X, alongside Britpop and Mr Frosty. The simple truth is, socks are a necessary but fundamentally unattractive item of clothing. When worn with bare legs, they should be as unobtrusive as possible: you want other people to be nodding appreciatively at your Converse trainers, not giving side-eye to your sock-swaddled ankles.
On the flip side, when wearing trousers, trainer socks are plainly a no-no, at least for men. Nobody wants to see a flash of flesh between the top of a shoe and the hem of a trouser leg: it hints strongly at a lack of decorum.
As for colour, again the norms of a few years ago have been upset. White ankle socks were once the preserve of the sports arena, or at least worn only with white trainers. Gen Z, in their wanton way, don’t give a damn about such sensible convention. If they grow up to solve the climate crisis, all will be forgiven, but it’s quite the ask.
Not everyone over the age of 40 is so precious. One person who seems similarly unconcerned about foot sheath protocols is former prime minister, Boris Johnson, who was once snapped wearing what appeared to be the same pair of socks three days out of four (though his team denied they went unchanged). As a great runner – by which I mean regular – the now disgraced ex-incumbent of 10 Downing Street frequently gives the cameras a full long-sock-and-trainer frontal. And what a sight it is.
Born in 1964, BoJo just about falls into the baby boomer generation, which explains his disreputable sock choices if nothing else. You might have imagined that seeing his large frame jogging chunkily through the streets, clad in Bermuda shorts, dark ankle socks and various sneakers would give the vibey Gen Z pause for thought. But perhaps footage of Boris running around Oxfordshire isn’t especially dominant on TikTok.
Then again, maybe it’s part of a cunning plan as Johnson considers how he can one day return to political glory, powered by stretched socks and the adoring eyes of a younger generation. After the events of the last few days, the idea of a Boris comeback may seem far-fetched, but already some of his supporters have raised the possibility. If the chatter ever gets louder, there will be one thing to say to the BoJo brigade: put a (trainer) sock in it.
