Journalists frequently ask me “why men ‘don’t understand’ a women’s passion for handbags”. A range of plausible explanations spring forth – fear of the unknown instilled by Grandma proclaiming handbags sacred and hallow: fear of a never ending expense habit; fear of an insatiable appetite for closet space! Surely on some level men do ‘get it’- after all, don’t they too, have passions and collect things?
During a recent Anglo American lunch we set about debating this hot topic with alarming realisations. Socks! Yes, socks seems to be the answer, and to prove the point a brand new, left ankle of Tesco’s finest… black, edged in St Patrick’s day green, emerged above the lunch table - “perfect man” delicately circling the ankle in matching emerald tones!
Yet socks hardly seem to be on a par with our IT bag or vintage arm candy: socks have to be stripped daily, washed, dried, even ironed! No such chores for the latest Anya Hindmarch! The lifestyle of socks is hardly aspirational – 18 hours a day in the company of other small ticketed items’ and never to see the light of day! They neither boost confidence, nor make a fashion statement (unless you have x-ray vision). They dont even set ‘tongues a wagging’ about your recently found fortune!
Socks simply didn’t cut the mustard! This left us with only one obvious male equivalent to a woman’s handbag obsession – the traditional English beer mat!
It is universally understood that beer mats, (like bags) are stored in dust covers – well plastic bags! They too, like handbags need a dedicated storage space -typically the loft, and like us, most men can swiflty lay their hands on at least one, when called upon to do so.
It seems, (like us girls and our bags)- that no man can resist the feel, or fail to touch, play with, or bend in half – a beer mat! Like handbags they too have a functional purpose: they too come in a range of colour and decoration, they change in size and shape by brewery or pub – offering every man a never ending unquenchable reason to ‘do the rounds’.
Whether men ‘get a woman’s need’ for a new handbag or not – the good news for us girls is that Christmas just got easier! Socks – will continue to be the ‘IT’ gift of the season, and if we need a back up – we can always slip down to the local, grab a handful of carefully chosen cardboard and soak up the local produce all in the name of hubby’s collection!
I can’t wait to hear what the journalists ask me next time!
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
One small but incredibly important correction to your account of the discussion at Tom’s kitchen. The socks proclaimed the wearer to be “Mr. Perfect” – not “perfect man” which, according to the subconscious analysis of the ladies at the table, may also be equally true.
Other monogrammed socks in the purchased set included, among others, “Mr. Irresistible,” “Mr. Cool” and “Mr. Right.”
Unlike many handbags, these socks are practical. Not only do they assist me in matching out of the laundry, on our trip back to the States – I confidently displayed my “Mr. Handsome” socks as a second form of identification at airport security.
Can man be identified by his socks alone? Now there’s a question to behold!
Could this be the much awaited explanation for schizophrenia? Surely socks leave a man vulnerable to much internal confusion, nay turmoil! For if a man muddles up his socks one morn – which identity will take hold? Do the two socks vie for personality supremacy? Will one foot rebel by striding out further, reducing said man to a human spinning top circling in ever decreasing spirals? And , what becomes of said man if one sock is the aforementioned ‘ Mr Perfect’ and t’other one ‘Mr Handsome’? Do we end up with a Mr Hand-fect – a spinning gay ‘effected’ individual whose limp wrist is the least of his issues or, do we find ourselves dealing with Mr Purr-sum: a wannabee accountant chasing milk and pussies all day? (Don’t answer)! Such difficulties to pour countenance upon… I await with intrigue your enlightened retort!