At some point in the last few years, “they” have decided to stop making good, cheap socks. It is easy to find cheap socks, to be sure, but not so easy to find good, cheap socks. In fact, it might be impossible. I know this because I once spent two hours researching socks on the Internet. I don’t usually like to order stuff online, but things have changed since Covid, of course. I also went online because I couldn’t find any good, cheap socks in real life, and I was desperate. I still am.
First, let’s look at the background of this critically important sock issue. Target had stopped selling socks, good ones anyway, in those beautiful “buy 2 pairs-but-really-get-30” packages. Target was where I bought all my socks, and had done as long as I could remember–even though I am old enough to remember “back in the day” when Target used to be Gemco. (Which day are we “back in?” And if I tell you the same story tomorrow, do I need to say, “back in the day before that?”).
Well, long before Target there was Gemco. Gemco, what the hell is that? Remember it? I didn’t care about socks then (I was just a kid, so good, cheap socks weren’t really on my radar.) Boy, how things change.
Anyway, long after Gemco became Target (like years later), I would buy all of my socks at Target. Target was my socks place. They sold the socks I needed. Crew socks, all kinds of colors. Dark blue. Light blue. White. Black. You get the picture. The packages of two-pairs-disguised-as-30 also included that ugly tan color, always the last to be used, which came in handy years later. When Target finally stopped selling good, cheap socks, (scary, foreshadowing music here) I wore the ugly tans for years, alternating them with my one remaining pair of good, cheap socks that I still had. I’m telling you, those socks lasted. (They were the black ones, too, and I like those. Black works with anything.) One of the reasons I hate the tan ones is that they’re sort of the color of baby poop.
Then, one day, without any warning, without so much as a “by your leave,” or a “we-are-going-to-stop-selling-good-crew-socks-in packages-of 2-but really-30” party, Target stopped selling them. Just like that, no more good, cheap socks! No farewell. No nuthin’. How could you, Target? How could you?! Of course, Target still sells giant bags of cheap socks, but now they athe shitty cheap ones.
This betrayal is what led to my sad, frustrated, angry two-hour online research into socks. (Sock searching has a lot of emotions for me, obviously). Who would, or could, replace the beautiful, good cheap socks I had so long relied upon from Target? Actually, before my research on line, I had to look again in real-life first. I’m analog, not digital. I double-checked Target one more time, just to be sure. No satisfaction. Once Target had failed (again!), I braved it and went to Walmart. Take that, Target!
Unfortunately, Walmart had the same crappy socks that Target did. And then, full of hope and unicorn belief, I went to the downtown Mom and Pop store that sells all things cotton. I need socks that are all-cotton, or as close to it as possible, because I have allergies and get rashes and such, which was one of the reasons I had so loved Target’s almost-all-cotton socks. Hallelujah! At last I would be able to find glorious, beautiful, warm cotton socks, right? WRONG! Strangely, the Mom-and-Pop all cotton store didn’t help at all; it had no quality socks, either. It did have socks– but they weren’t “good and cheap.” They weren’t even all cotton, in spite of the store’s name: “All Things Cotton.”
Maybe it’s my fault that Mom and Pop stores are going out of business; I should have shopped there to begin with. They’re kinda expensive, though. That and they have a dumb, liars’ name, too. “All Things Cotton.” Ha! It’s probably not my fault if that store goes out of business. (I blame Covid, it’s easier).
It was only after living through the three-strikes-you’re-out search (Target, Walmart, “All Things Cotton”) in real life that I finally surrendered and admitted I did, indeed, have to search online for “good, cheap socks.” I had done some pretty fancy footwork trying to find the actual socks, in real life, if you don’t mind the cheesy pun. Or even if you do. Footwork. Sock shopping, get it? Since I failed, dismally, it would be a long time before I would have any sock satisfaction (albeit brief), courtesy of the evil Amazonian Empire. I did my research. I wanted to be prepared before I primed.
Thus, I had spent two hours (okay, probably more) on the Internet, finding out about “Gold Toe” socks. Long enough crew socks. So far so good. Different colors. Getting warmer. And finally, a blend of mostly cotton. Beautiful. I ordered three pairs on Amazon, which was my first mistake. Had I known then what I know now, I would have ordered at least three more pairs! I mean, I had gone almost an entire year simply alternating the one pair of ugly tans with the one good black pair. Therefore, the first three pairs I ordered from the Amazon seemed like an absolute feast of socks, a bountiful abundance, a cornucopia, if you will. And you will. (Or at least, you did).
Tragically, too soon after my beautiful new socks came, and proved to me their worthiness of the title of “best socks,” I wanted to order more of them, mostly because they were, in fact, amazing, and all they had promised. They were warm, they were cotton, they were long enough, but not too long. I loved them! Goodbye Target’s cheap but no-longer-good-socks, hello Gold Toe!
As you know, the first time I had ordered them, I ordered from evil Amazon, of course, but for the second order, old Gold Toes were playing very hard to get. Maybe because at the same time, everyone else on the planet was ordering their socks from Amazon, too. Not to be deterred, I ordered from Macy’s instead. More than one way to skin a cat, see?
They arrived. Not the same sock at all, honestly. They were thinner, tighter, cooler–not nearly as warm and cozy as the first batch. To be fair, they still had the same length. Length. The similarities ended there. However, I needed warmer, thicker socks. There I was, months, or even years(?), after my first successful order of the then-extraordinary and perfect Gold Toe socks, but now I was back where I started. A brief moment of hope when I saw them also for sale at Costco, but those were no better than the Macy’s cruddy Gold Toe socks. I didn’t even buy them because I could tell they were also too thin. Shit.
I went back online to see if my experience was unique. It wasn’t. (I have some free time, so, um…). Sure enough, other customers complained of the same things I had: the new version of Gold Toes were thinner, colder. They were cheaply made without actually being, you know, cheaper. It is truly disappointing, and I regret every minute (okay, not every minute, but the ones when I am putting on socks) that I didn’t just buy more of the original, better quality Gold Toes when first I encountered them. Now in my sad little sock drawer, I’m down to the new, thinner, colder ones. And just one pair of Target’s original ugly tans.
One of the reasons I hate the tan ones is that they’re sort of the color of baby poop.
Feisty Quill