Everybody has a story. And everybody has their own unique expression of life. We come in many shapes, sizes and colours, and have different backgrounds, dietary requirements, opinions, learning abilities, and so on.
Yet how is it that some producers and some suppliers, including those who have ethical and eco-friendly business practices, seem to be adopting the one-size-fits-all approach? Aren’t we meant to be providing for the needs of the individual as well?
On the one hand, it’s terrific to see more eateries and food producers catering to the wide-ranging dietary requirements while still being able to put their own culinary spin on their fare. There’s everything from gluten- and dairy-free, to vegan and nut-free dining. We’ve all got to eat, and it’s important that we care about where our food comes from.
But why can’t we acknowledge our individual requirements across a broader spectrum, whether it’s education or buying socks? Yes, socks.
As a 178-centimetre tall woman with long, narrow size 10 feet, finding comfy shoes that fit (and that I like) has been a challenge since adolescence. My saviour, though, has always been socks — until recently.
In the last year or so, I’ve had major challenges with getting comfy, natural fibre and locally made socks that actually fit my feet. It seems that a lot of Australian manufacturers of socks, including those that make them with bamboo or without any kind of synthetic, have decided that all women’s feet are somewhere between a size 3 and 8, or that one size sock fits all.
Despite being advised that these naturally made, good-for-your feet socks will stretch, especially if made from bamboo, after purchasing these small sized pairs, as well as the one-size-fits-all and unisex socks, I can assure you they don’t fit me.
Two things generally happen when I put these “standard” size socks on.
Firstly, my smaller-sized socks, especially anklets or sporting socks, can barely reach the back of my heel, let alone stay on. Instead, they gather or bunch up at the middle of my foot, which means I’m constantly having to readjust them. And if I have runners on, about half way through my walk my heel is either blistered or gouged and bleeding. Fortunately, these socks aren’t cutting off my circulation.
Secondly, my toes go through them because I’m trying to hold on to these socks by putting more pressure on the front of my foot. Not only is it impractical, it’s wasteful.
Even if I was to repurpose these smaller (and holier) socks into the likes of floor sweepers or fingerless gloves that still doesn’t solve the issue of finding suitable socks for my feet.
Why don’t I try men’s socks? Unfortunately, they don’t fit either. As mentioned, I have a long and slim foot with a narrow lower leg, so men’s socks tend to be too big or sag, given they are made for broader feet, and so on.
Thankfully, woollen or bamboo hiking socks are still made in various sizes and remain the best fit for me. However, I only wear them for hiking or at home in the midst of winter. Plus, hiking socks are too thick for my regular shoes.
Like most, I need different types of socks to suit the seasons and activities in my life. I don’t need a stockpile, just a handful that fit my feet and are supportive, comfy and durable. If I could walk barefoot year round, I would, but just as I like eating in sync with the seasons, I like to dress appropriately, including my feet.
And I’m sure I’m not the only one with my sized feet or longer (larger) to experience this one-size-fits-all dilemma. On average, the world is growing taller, and the size of our feet are generally in proportion to height. So why is there a big trend with various styles of socks being made in smaller sizes for all women? Don’t socks form a part of our basic need to clothe ourselves? Therefore, shouldn’t they be more accessible?
Or do those of us with size 10 feet and above have to pay a premium price?
When it comes to socks, do you think size matters?
By Kristin Lee
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