There’s a long list of things I said I would never wear. At one point in my life, sitting firmly at the top, men’s sandals. To clarify, I’m not talking the practical type, you know reef walkers with the Velcro, but referring distinctly and wholly to those devilish German creations, Birkenstocks. I remember the first time I saw a man in a pair of Birkies. Oh, how we laughed, then cried, then laughed some more. For the mate wearing them, that was one Saturday BBQ I am sure he will never forget. Imagine the courageous self-talk in the lead up to that fateful afternoon. “Don’t worry, they’re your mates, they’ll support you, regardless of your choices. You don’t need to justify sandals to anyone”. Good in theory. That poor mate spent the remainder of that BBQ walking around barefoot, the Birkenstocks relegated to the cooler bag, hidden beneath a few cans of Rekorderlig cider. Sometimes your mates can be real assholes.
a birkenstock guy
As I reflect on the hilarious cruelty we imposed on a dear friend’s confidence, I look down at my own feet, nestled snuggly in my single strap Birkenstocks. The single strap is an important distinguishing factor. As is the black colouration. I’m not just following the crowd here; I’m trying to be individual amongst sheep. I will admit that adding the toe loop is a step to far. So, I cut that off. I’ve had my Birkenstocks for about 6 months now, and I will admit, the anxiety I felt wearing them for the first time nearly resulted in a case of agoraphobia. Purchased with much trepidation in London, it took a few glasses of Dutch courage to fully commit. But the deal was made, and I walked proudly from the Birkenstock store just before the 9:00 PM closing time. Tomorrow was Saturday, the weather was looking fine, then I would unleash my uniqueness on the world. It’s amazing how true the adage of sleep on it can prevent many a bad decision being made. In my case, it could have prevented some serious buyer’s remorse. Was I truly ready to become a Birkenstock guy? Are we truly ever ready for anything?
the germans
With some coaxing and words of confidence from my wife, I slid my feet into my Birkenstocks. We had an awesome day planned. London, sunshine, craft beer and good friends. Happiness is what I should have felt. But fear and self-doubt took hold. My mind was full “Everyone is staring at your feet; you should never have bought those damn Birkenstocks”. I looked to my wife as she smiled. She probably thought I was just being quiet, for a rare change that is not so rare. Little did she know, internally it was at war. With some strength, I fought back. And for a fleeting moment, I crushed the self-doubt. At least we were meeting a friend. She had a unique style of her own, so seeing me in Birkenstocks would be nothing unusual. How I was wrong. If not the first thing she said, but at least in the open stanza of our meeting, our friend, who’s identity will remain protected swiftly commented on how feminine my sandals were. Add to the fact that she was German and wearing Birkenstocks, I felt a pang of justified humiliation. I was ready to jump off the roof of the bar we were drinking at just to end my shame. I can’t believe I let my wife dress me! But I composed myself, I smiled and shrugged and said I think they’re manly. I didn’t want to go the double strap like every other bloke. I resolved in myself, just be confident, if you like your sandals even if they are feminine, that’s all that should matter. My own comfort, my own style. Except was the style really my own?
the trendsetter
Coming back to Australia, it was clear that it wasn’t. I started to converse with fellow Birkenstock wearers, trying to get to the bottom of how the trend began. Oddly though, in 99 percent of male Birkenstock wearers, their defence mechanisms were still high. “Ah mate I had em’ before they were cool”. The deepest any sort of conversation about their choice of footwear would descend “Bloody comfortable aye”. Clearly, I would need to do my own research. And by research, I mean put down some words of little fact, little substance and pure speculation. Sounds like a stock recommendation. What is obvious though, Birkenstocks are comfortable and judging by the chain of Birkenstock centric shoe stores popping up, they are here to stay for the foreseeable future. What is also clear is the men’s sandals trend is no different to any of those often-regrettable fashion trends Aussies travelling through Europe inevitably attempt to introduce to their mates back home.
desperate to fit in
I can only assume we Aussies suffer some form of identity crises when we get to Europe. So much history, so much culture. And the people. So refined, they can speak five different languages by age two, are drinking red wine by age 10, professional DJs by age 15 and retired in chinos and linen shirts by age 20. They then become so bored they decide to get sleeve tattoos and shave the back and sides of their heads to pass the time. When Australians travel, our uniqueness and difference is undeniably obvious. Naturally shy, we suddenly stand out like the tall poppies we tend to cut down. We are desperate to fit in. And so, rightly or wrongly we attempt to assimilate sometimes to such extremes that we forget who we are entirely. The result, trends that are more impactful, more contagious and more perplexing than any form of global health crisis.
contagion
Forget for a moment corona virus, SARS, swine flu and foot and mouth disease, some things should be quarantined long before making their way to our distant shores. I’m talking about the man bun epidemic, the salad haircut (which I am unashamedly sporting, it somewhat masks my abnormally large head), invisible socks so that men can roll their chinos up to their neck and bare their ankles proudly. Just buy three quarter pants you damn pirates. Pretty classy or is it? Considering that at one point in our strange history, for a woman to bare her ankles was considered too sexual. Far too much skin exposure for society to handle. How ridiculous. Anyway, I will press on, skinny leg jeans, floppy hats, sleeve tattoos, thong bikinis (not so becoming on a man). This is not meant to be a post about fashion but to this point, that’s all I seem to be saying. There are many things on that list which I became a victim of but It’s hard not to become a victim when travelling. Like the time I came back with European cut bathers, blue dress shoes, linen shorts, Birkenstocks.
my own rules, broken
So, whilst I say there is a long list of things I said I would never wear, it is interesting to reflect on how often that list has been broken. Muumuus are comfortable. Moving beyond the superficiality of it all, I am sure we all have our lists. Maybe you haven’t consciously thought about it, but I am sure it exists. This list may be related to fashion choices, health, food, employment, experiences, friends, dreams. They may be a result of self-imposed rules, life experiences or a fear of looking stupid. They can be rightly justified or based fourth-hand opinion. Regardless of how they form, I have come to realise by occasionally breaking my own rules I engage in a rare opportunity to challenge my own habitual, modes of thinking and narrow mindedness. Obviously, some rules should not be broken. Especially if it leads us down illegal, immoral or unethical paths. But the self-imposed rules we build up without any conscious thought? That’s a different story altogether. At the end of the day, whether the choice ends up being a catastrophic failure or a trend-setting success story, we will have grown, we will have learned more about ourselves and at the very least we will have a comfortable pair of new sandals we can wear to a friend’s BBQ.