What your choice of sock says about you as a person
Journalism, I guess?
Socks, am I right? It's entirely likely that we've all taken a moment out of our busy lives to ponder one of the world's most important questions: How can you ever truly know what your choice of sock says about you as a person?
You'll always have a biased opinion of your own fashion choices, which is entirely fine. What you really need is an impartial voice to tell you what's what. So today, for one day only, I am happy to be that person.
Let's figure out what your choice of sock says about you as a person, shall we?
Plain Black Socks
I'll keep this brief as it's likely you have a multitude of important meetings to rush off to. You are an astute businessman whose entire life's worth was established during a Sunday afternoon viewing of The Wolf of Wall Street in your local cineplex during a particularly rainy January back in 2014. You didn't order any popcorn or treats, just a bottle of sparkling water to accompany the three-hour theatrical bonanza. After the movie, you strolled home and made dinner which consisted of a singular chicken breast (plain) and some frozen vegetables. You cried yourself to sleep shortly afterwards and then reentered the rat race on Monday morning with a keep warm flask of decaf Nespresso in tow.
You're a young professional, is what I am saying. But rather than being a normal one, you're taking it all incredibly seriously. You get your suits dry cleaned and refer to money as 'lids'. Despite having already peaked by holding down a low grade office job for six months, you still got business cards printed after you finished Uni because you thought it would inspire greatness. Mentally, you are Mark Zuckerberg roughly two years before he founded Facebook. In reality, you are an Apprentice contestant who has just been exposed as a fraud during the interview task, after Claude Littner revealed that you didn't even finish your B. Tech because a girl broke your heart and you couldn't concentrate. Smart socks, though.
Hey there, champ. How are things? Still attending the meetings, yeah? Great. Hope they're helping. What about the council, did they uphold the residents' dispute about you living so close to a primary school? Oh, brilliant. Yeah it'll be tough having to move again but you can never be too careful, haha. I know, the accusations were completely made up by someone that's had a grudge against you for years, but it's always best to obey the law, isn't it? Haha. Exactly. Was walking past your window the other day, saw you were watching Peppa Pig. Great show, isn't it? Had you some friends over with their kids? Oh. Not to worry. My telly sometimes turns itself on as well. Strange things, aren't they? Anyway, need to run, chat soon!
Lest that stunning piece of dialogue has left you with any confusion, what I am saying is that you are a menace to society. You've interfered where interference is forbidden, if you get me? If you've ever watched Friday Night Dinner, you'll recognise yourself in the neighbour, Jim. Nobody has concrete proof that you've done unspeakable things to vulnerable people, but everyone can agree that you've just absolutely done it because you exude that vibe. Rather than giving you the benefit of the doubt, we've all just come to our own conclusion that it's best to steer clear of you unless a tragic story to explain your creepy manner ever emerges. Practical socks, though.
Here we go, Johnno's here. Absolutely bloody legend Johnno, he was a right laugh in college, you're going to love him. Just a decent lad. Gone a bit quiet in recent years, settled down and has a kid now. Haven't heard from him in a while to be honest, but from what I remember, he was a complete nutter. Rarely used to see him without a beer in his hand. Always trying to score on a night out. Once stole a wheelbarrow from the DIY shop and returned it the next morning missing a wheel. The manager went insane, but get this, it was his Dad. Yeah, Johnno's Dad owned the DIY shop! He was grounded for a week, still snuck out. Absolute legend Johnno. Heard he's engaged now, drives a Toyota and goes for Sunday lunches after a walk in the park. Brilliant. Probably still does ket.
But you don't do ket anymore, do you, Johnno? You took two paracetamol last weekend for a migraine and that's as adventurous as things have been of late, isn't that right? You're what experts describe as 'cripplingly settled'. Your day-to-day life is secretly being recorded to give insomniacs something to watch in a bid to bore them into a light comatose state at night. You just don't do anything anymore, Johnno. Things weren't like this five years ago. You once got thrown out of B&Q for taking a shit in one of the display toilets. Now you're tutting at youths being rowdy on the street outside at 11pm. Sort things out before you become the most boring person alive. Please. Jazzy socks, though.
Step aside please, the (undiscovered) greatest comedian of our generation is here and he's about to eradicate any suspicions that he might be, actually, not very funny at all. It takes a brave man to suggest that he is funny, but to do so with a pair of novelty socks, well get on the phone to Britain's Got Talent immediately sir because you are an untapped valuable resource that this country needs right now. In a world that's full of doom and gloom, what a brave gesture to perform by wearing a pair of comical socks. What's more, you won't simply wear a shorter pant than usual to guarantee the chances of someone noticing the socks, you'll also point them out to every single person you meet on the day you've chosen to wear them. "Look at these, brilliant aren't they?". Mate. They're not.
My heart is breaking for you, but I have to be honest. You are not funny. Some people are very funny, like Tom from accounts. He's got a one liner for every occasion and it's all original material. He'll never aspire to push it any further because he's content with being the funny guy in the office. But you try too hard. Everything is forced. Your pranks are lame and stolen off the internet. You've signed up to a mailing list that sends you a joke each morning, which you spend the entire commute into work learning it off. But what you don't know is that the rest of the office also signed up after you told them about it. So they know what joke you're going to tell. They place bets on how badly you're going to fuck it up. Just stop. You're making a fool of yourself. Funny socks, though.
Greetings. It's a surprise to find you lurking on such a mainstream website, but you are welcome regardless. You regularly spend your days on the dark web, anonymously contributing to conspiracy theories about why Mars Delights are no longer widely available. 'It's nothing to do with popularity, they were actually harbouring a secret ingredient that's banned in three continents. Mars got away with it for far longer than they should have. Ultimately, the Government had to intervene', you post. It gets three upvotes and a shocked emoji reaction face. You recline in your seat, safe in the knowledge that you have yet again gone viral and exposed a greedy conglomerate for being fraudulent.
You're a chore to be around, frankly. 'Turbo nerd' isn't a strong enough descriptor for your personality. You like things, same as everyone else, but you like them harder than we do. You can't simply watch a TV show and enjoy it for what it is, you must go the extra mile. Script a dozen episodes and send them to the writer. It doesn't matter if you get a response, you just had to get it out of your system. You struggle to connect with people on a meaningful level, but at least you'll always have the internet for company. As well as a 24 pack of Monster Energy drinks that you hacked the Tesco website to secure for a meagre £12.99. Fools, every single one of them. Sweet socks, though.
Firstly, I must state that it is a huge honour to have a fashionista such as yourself reading this piece. I can imagine your days are filled attending events, browsing the latest trends and shmoozing with celebrities such as Tinie Tempah and a former Newsround presenter. For you to take even a moment out of your hectic schedule to peruse this piece is a true privilege both for myself and the entire JOE team. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading this. We don't take such a heavy set of eyes on the website lightly. Your readership will be logged and fondly remembered during dark days, I can assure you.
You are a fashionable man, one whose main goal in life is to look good. They say you should dress for the job you want, and by all accounts, you would like to be either a runway model or internationally adored fashion designer. That time you wore a salmon jacket with navy pants? Incredible. They're still talking about it at the Indian restaurant. When you wore a formal shirt with casual jeans? Their jaws haven't come off the barber's floor just yet. Or your decision to wear a headband to a festival, but actually tied it around your wrist? The ladies at the homemade cake stand are still trying to regulate their heart rates. You are fashion personified. Give it time, you'll be scouted by a fashionista-spotter in no time. Just kidding, you look ridiculous. You live in Scunthorpe. Barely noticeable socks, though.
Sit back and sip your AeroPress Americano with a splash of oat milk because you are about to be seen, for the first time in your godforsaken life. You've been drifting around, in and out of vegan markets, up and down the country to various folk music festivals, but nothing ever gains recognition for your soul. You're unfulfilled, wasting the days away wearing hemp clothes and only flushing the toilet when you produce a solid. The weight of life's expectations along with the reusable bamboo straw you carry in your pocket at all times is getting heavier. When are you actually going to make a difference? When are you going to get to do a TED Talk on the benefits of rarely brushing or cutting your hair?
You're deliberately different. You're concerned about the world on a level the rest of us can't even comprehend. You've seen Al Gore's In Inconvenient Truth no fewer than three times. Things are happening around us at an alarming rate and you're the only one that's taking notice, or at least that's how it feels. But what if I told you this. Everything you've done is irrelevant. Sure, you went vegan, but you're not even putting a dent in things. Your iPhone is destroying the world far quicker than the plastic straw you refused to put in your sparkling water at lunch. Just stop the facade. Life is too short. Eat a yoghurt. Smoke a pre-rolled cigarette. Be free. Buy a matching pair of socks, you goddamn hippie. Sweet attempt at solving climate change, though.
Do you, perchance, happen to smoke the Devil's cigarettes from time to time? No reason why I'm asking, just a hunch. Furthermore, do you go pretty hard on a night out? Again, just a formality that we need to get out of the way. Aha. Just as I suspected, you are an absolute bloody legend, aren't you? Knew it. You don't even know how to roll a joint, but you're first on the scene when one's being passed around. If someone put a gun to your head and asked you to source some weed for a change rather than scabbing everyone else's, you'd take that bullet like a champ because you've never braved an interaction with a dealer in your life.
You wear chinos, you've got a pair of boat shoes and your parents still pay your rent. By all accounts, you're a straight shooter. But you crave the approval of your peers on a borderline insane level. They must respect you. What's more, they must never doubt your credibility as a legend. You got a tattoo of the name 'Anthea' because you wanted people to think you had a girlfriend, or at least that's the rumour going around. Sorry to hear about your nan by the way. Look, we get it. You will have precisely three puffs of a joint at a party, then get a fit of the giggles and have to sit down for a while. That's you. Congratulations. Now lose the socks and matching bucket hat. You look tragic. Vibrant socks, though.
Looks like we've got a bit of a prankster on our hands here, haven't we? Better hide the silly string because Dan's in town and he's ready to let loose. You're a teacher, but self-appointed as the one teacher on this godforsaken earth that isn't uptight. Not all the time, anyway. You're no stranger to a jazzy tie, vintage pair of Nike Air Max, even a Santa hat on the last day before school finishes up for Christmas break. Your fellow staff members can't get enough of your quirky ways, mostly because they have an average age of 57 years. Still, the students definitely 'dig your vibe', as they absolutely never say. You're living proof that learning actually can be fun.
Except it isn't. All is not quite as it seems. You're miserable, always have been. You can't quite shake that sense of dread that's buried within. Probably because you know that you can't run from the truth forever. Eventually, it's all going to catch up with you and you'll be exposed for what you really are. You're a Brony. You can't get enough of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. It's not a crime, in fact, many guys your age are proud fans. But where you come from, those kind of interests aren't as warmly accepted as you'd like them to be. The spare room in your apartment is loaded with Brony paraphernalia, locked away from daylight. In many ways, you want an unsuspecting guest to find it. Then, you can be free. Brilliant socks, though.
Your Majesty, welcome to the article. Your presence is a great honour here and certainly one that has been noted. You're a busy person, meeting various leaders of the modern world and setting aside some time each day to count your millions of pounds in wealth. You are incredibly rich, but visibly so. Everything you wear has a label, even your nose hair. Nobody will even see the tiny logo at the top of the socks, but you know that it's there, and that's enough. One time you lit a £50 note on fire so that you could light a cigar. There was no one around, you just did it for sport. Didn't even upload it to Instagram, did you? Just kept the video on your camera roll for pornographic purposes at a later date. Scoundrel.
The harsh reality is that you were gifted these socks at Christmas. Your Mum saw a multipack of FaNcY socks going cheap in TK Maxx and stocked up. Your father, brother and brother in-law got the same thing. Decent socks though, very sturdy and they feel good on your feet. But this is a short-lived dalliance with luxury for you. Everyone knows it. The rest of your socks are from Primark. This pair will eventually get lost, just like everything else that's good and pure in the world. You don't deserve nice things. Stop fooling yourself. Fancy socks, though.
Regrettably, I must inform you that your birth was an accident. While we can't quite get into the specifics of this right now, it's important that you don't panic. What you need to do simply book an appointment with your local GP at the nearest possible convenience. He/she will then arrange for you to be put down in a humane way. Unfortunately, this is the correct protocol for someone that wears glove socks. This entire article was just a ruse to get in contact with you. You need to be terminated immediately. Sincere apologies for any inconvenience caused. Things should never have gotten this far. See you on the other side.
Scum. You are scum.