Cool weather means hot foot fashion

There’s something going on with guys like me. And by “guys like me” I mean greying, pudgy guys who don’t like to drive at night. I believe we are commonly referred to, behind our backs, as “McDreamy.”

I saw a guy like me walking to work this morning. He was wearing the same outfit as me. Black jacket, grey slacks and, I’ll assume, underwear that was born before some NHL rookies.

But there was a striking, eye-popping difference. While I was sporting some boring, blending-in dark socks, this guy was absolutely rocking a pair of fire engine red stockings. I know this isn’t a new, new thing but it’s a kind of new thing where guys dress totally normal and kind of boring all over their body but let their personality run wild in that three- to fiveinch stretch of fabric that peeks out over their shoes and below their pant cuff.

Socks are serious fashion for guys and I need to get into this party. I have two colours of socks in my drawer. I have black socks and I have white socks. I take that back. I have a pair of navy blue socks too. I thought those were my wild and crazy socks.

I need to up my sock game. Fashionwise, socks should be pretty simple. Sliding into some cool, colourful socks isn’t tricky like matching a shirt to a pair of pants to a pair of shoes to a belt.

This is a sartorial quadfecta of doom where if any one piece is off, you’re going to look like a derp. A huge derp. I don’t know what a derp is, but I don’t want to look like one.

Maybe that answers my question, what’s with the funky socks? They’re easy. You don’t have to fold them like a pocket square or choke yourself out by tying them around your neck.

You can buy wild and crazy socks in all kinds of eye bending colours and patterns like stripes, polka dots, puzzle pieces, pizza slices or doughnuts. Cheap ones cost about $12 per pair, which is more than I usually pay for a six-pack but, still, is pretty cheap for high fashion.

It isn’t just feet that are on the move, fashion-wise, this season. With cooler weather, I’m starting to see the return of some seasonal selections.

A few weeks ago, people were rolling into the office wearing moisture-wicking golf shirts or biceps-baring tank tops; today, they are donning wools and flannels and generally looking like a bunch of little alpacas running amok.

And they’re a little premature. Those warm fall sweaters and jackets might seem like a good idea at a frosty 7 a.m. but when the temp climbs into the teens by midday, people are sweltering through their mohair.

One friend of mine has been sporting a red, puffy, down-filled vest for three weeks. It’s huge. It looks like a very cosy flotation device.

Honestly, I never understood the puffy vest. When it gets cold, my fingers get cold. My ears get cold. My toes get cold and my thighs get cold. If there’s one part of my body that generally keeps itself warm, it’s my torso. The puffy vest covers the central furnace, leaving all the extremities to fend for themselves. You’re on your own, arms. Good luck.

Another friend had her giant scarf fired up for action today. What is with these huge scarves? Every woman I know, and a lot of guys, cannot wait for the temperature to dip just a little so they can wrap these blankets around their necks.

The bigger, the better. Scarves used to be things we’d wear because our moms made us, arguing they would somehow ward off viral infectious diseases. We’d play in the snow for two minutes before ripping these things off to prevent choking or heat stroke. We’d never remember to bring them home with us but that’s OK — Mom always had another scarf ready.

Now that we’re grown up, we’re not happy until we wrap ourselves in a scarf that covers us from our necks right down to our socks. Almost to our socks. We don’t want to cover up those beauties.