Comfort of socks has improved with time

Socks. For some reason almost every pair of socks I put on last week had holes in them by the time I took them off in the evening. They had been hole-free when I put them on. This happened with the ordinary socks I wear every day as well as the fuzzy neon-pink ones my daughter gave me one Christmas. The only ones that didn’t end up in the trash were the ones where the feet were too big and the tops too small. Those will never wear out.

 Socks of some kind or other have been around almost as long as feet have. History tells us that early people used animal skins to cover their feet. What else would they use? Knitting machines and synthetic material didn’t exist yet but animals did. They had all this lovely skin left over after dinner and it was only natural to use some of it to warm up their toes as well as the rest of their bodies.

Once people discovered they could make yarn, socks became more comfortable. With a few sheep and a couple of sticks a crafty person could turn out enough knitting to keep an entire family in socks. It’s a good thing my family doesn’t depend on me to make socks or all our toes would freeze off.

There is evidence of actual knitted socks in some Egyptian tombs. This leads me to wonder if King Tut ever had a sock monkey as a child. Probably not, as sock monkeys didn’t come into vogue until the Great Depression. Tut had gone on to the afterlife long before that. My Aunt Kitty made a sock monkey for my daughter Beth when she was little. It is another skill I have never mastered even though a certain brand of men’s work socks comes with a pattern and instructions to turn an article of clothing into a toy.

The knitting machine came into being in the 16th century and sock making was off and running. Socks made of wool were for the common people while silk and other fine materials adorned the frozen tootsies of royalty.  Even way back then fashion trumped function.

In days past socks were mended instead of discarded. This was accomplished with the aid of a darning egg. It was a wooden egg about the size of a large turkey egg and often had a handle. The egg was inserted into the sock to hold the fabric taut while the patch was made. The resulting repaired piece was never as comfortable as the original but it was a lot better than going without, which was the only other option. Thank goodness I am rich enough to toss holey socks rather than mend them.

When I went to my favorite place to shop for replacement socks, I was greeted with many different options. There were no-show, low-cut, quarter length, crew, knee, bobby, slouch, boot, trouser, compression, diabetic and others I have forgotten. There were silky thin ones next to heavy fuzzy ones. Every color of the rainbow was represented. There were single colors and wild patterns. The price range was as varied as the choices.

I picked two packages of rather plain socks and took them to the register. I was delighted to find that they were on sale even though there had been no sign indicating this.

I wonder what the ancient caveman who first wound animal skins around his feet would think if he had been faced with so many choices. Would he have chosen the thick leopard print or the medium weight black? I’m certain that he would wonder how we could take such riches for granted.

It’s a matter of perspective. My socks had holes and I replaced them. There was a time when I couldn’t afford such luxury. Some people still can’t afford to buy new socks whenever they choose. I hope my new socks last longer than the old ones did and that everyone who needs socks can somehow obtain them.