I often let my socks dictate my outfits. It might feel like a counterintuitive place to start, but with a dresser drawer overflowing with flamboyant patterns and pairs, socks help me choose a color scheme around which to meticulously curate the rest of my outfit. I find it compelling to work backward; bright pink socks mean picking an ensemble of items with similarly pink flourishes, and blue socks bedecked with sunflowers mean wearing Boston Birkenstocks and cropped Levis to match. Once the exemplar of a bad holiday gift (“Even if you receive socks, always say a sincere thank you”), socks adorned with eccentric designs now warm my heart—or maybe I’m just getting older.
While my styling credentials are limited to the title of “fashionista” bestowed upon me by my father, I believe that, if you let them, socks can play the role of any other crucial accessory. They’re invisible the vast majority of the time, but they inevitably show face when you oh-so-nonchalantly cross your legs. Now, they’re a conversation starter, a means of physically embodying your interests. For me, socks showcase my overwhelming love of campy humor, crossword puzzles, and film photography. But for anyone else, there are a million different patterns and quips to wear proudly made by what feels like a million different distinct brands (I stand by BlueQ). Unfortunately, it feels as though we quickly cast off fun socks as we begin to “grow up.”
Funky socks don’t have a place in mainstream fashion, which rapidly platforms and de-platforms minimalist outfits and superfluous statement items alike. We’ve seen how social media apps and content creators have fundamentally changed the speed at which style trends change. Past decades all tout an easily defined aesthetic, from 70s bell bottoms and dangling accessories to Y2K tracksuits and bedazzled tank tops. But in the 2020s, no style seems to stick. Barrel jeans were declared hideous (and rightfully so) just as soon as TikTok influencers proclaimed them cute. Sage green and “cottagecore” have managed to retain a certain relevance, but cow print pants cause us to wince in horror. Rather than a silhouette or style becoming popular, social media has conditioned us to crave and pursue individual items, often conversation pieces difficult to repurpose when they quickly fall out of fashion. The five-stage life cycle of a trend, once expected to last 20 years, now runs its course in months or even weeks.
The effects of such rapidly changing trends are most obvious for the up-and-coming Generation Alpha. Following social media trends from an early age essentially encourages young consumers to internalize self-comparison and grow up faster. As a result, we see pre-teens dangerously striving to emulate 20-something-year-old influencers at an age when we used to wear glittery unicorn tees from Justice. But it’s much easier for us to recognize this impressionability in others; we operate under a guise of maturity that shields us from recognizing the same trend within ourselves.
When I was a middle schooler, I wanted so desperately to dress like Emma Chamberlain and her posse of “Dote Girls.” I traded patchwork shorts and corny t-shirts for striped Brandy Melville pants and fluffy, oversized jackets and begged my mother for overpriced white ankle socks (“Everyone has them”). Despite my claims that these items were versatile and would last me for years, I now scoff at photos of me decked out in black leggings, Converse, and socks pulled high above the ankle. Regardless, at the time, I genuinely believed these items to be the pinnacle of fashion. I overwhelmingly self-identified with this aesthetic and wore my inauthentic attempts to blend in with the “it girls” on my sleeve.
Years later, I can look back and identify that I was the problem. Yet, I subconsciously do the same thing in this day and age; just now, I’m choosing instead to align myself with individuals wearing knee-length jorts and child-sized football jerseys. The obsession with dressing to follow deeply ingrained social norms transcends age and stage in life—and it’s suspiciously hard to recognize your role (and you do have one) in upholding this culture.
While style was once meant to be a unique reflection of creativity and identity, it now reflects a societal obsession with conformity that extends far beyond the fashion sphere—consider what hobbies we take up, what majors we pursue, and what vernacular we speak with. It’s difficult, at this point, to understand what individuality or personal style looks like as we hurriedly attempt to keep up with what’s trendy and exciting. Even if you’re a true hipster, confident in your originality, you’re paradoxically forced to reinvent yourself as others adopt your look—if not, you’re just another conformist.
The socks we choose are a symptom of this broader trend. Between uniforms and professional garments, we so rarely get the autonomy to choose our own aesthetic or attire. Even when we have this freedom, we abdicate items deemed out of place or childish. We wholeheartedly accept the belief that anything quirky—say, fun socks—fails to demonstrate the maturity or fashion savvy required to belong in the mainstream. As such, we dull down our wardrobes with items that lack personality or perpetuity, often without even realizing it. Let me be clear: this isn’t a slight towards business clothing or basics. There’s absolutely merit to dressing in a manner that garners respect and, at the end of the day, a classic white tee will never fall by the wayside. But fashion, at its core, is meant to be a space for innovation, reinvention, and risk-taking. If we reject the opportunity to experiment with our style, we risk falling victim to a monotonous group identity.
Even if reclaiming a sense of personal style feels like a Sisyphean task, choosing expressive socks can be an easy gateway. In the few spaces where socks are considered “in,” they’re not quite cool (e.g. socks and sandals are prominent to an extent, but more so as the butt of an extended joke). But if you lay off the Nike crew socks, you’ll open the door to an exciting, timeless means of self-expression—plus, cool is an arbitrary term, anyway. If socks aren’t your thing, why not layer jewelry or try a new scent? Accessorize and stand out, if only in small ways. Conformity is a facade impossible to keep up with. The bravest, most exciting thing we can do is to go against the grain, even if it starts with something as minute as patterned socks.
