Fashion and Function may go hand in hand, but trendy Swiss-cheesy footwear comes with a cost not mentioned in all the hype by doctors and nurses who tout the good foot health of the holey shoe.
Everyone it seems has joined the foam clog shoe army-of- many-colours. I am hearing the clop-clopping of holey soles more now than the traditional summertime thwack-thwacking of the once-predominant flip-flops. Not since the barbarian peasants scurried to the hills at the sounds of approaching Romans wearing the prototype Teva has a footwear craze been so successful. The Age of Aquarius has a soft, squishy, rubbery feel.
Last year PROFIT magazine placed one of the holey shoe companies at the top of their “hot 50” list as it saw spectacular advances in revenue. Of course these things are profitable. Think of all the extra shoes that are manufactured from the punched-out plastic disks!
Holeys are seemingly useful, and they are cheap. a pair of these will only pull about $16 out of your wallet. Crack-proof, wear-proof, everything-proof and they float too! Who cares, so did my beat up old pair of sandals.
We are told that holey shoes are good for kayaking, yet I have to wonder after my own experience with holey shoes just how many of these happy feet belong to kayakers.
After another season of paddling in old sandals that were be- coming more duct tape than sandal, I gave in. I clop-clopped from one end of the outdoorsy store to the other, and on my return trip I was sold.
There are no surf waves in outdoorsy stores. In that safe, dry environment I envisioned myself leaping in and out of my kayak for a quick pee secure in the knowledge that I would not bring water back with me. Holey shoes have holes, you see. The water just magically disappears mid-leap! No one told me that they don’t stay on when you are leaping in and out of a kayak.
The general consumer may be buying the sales pitch, perhaps rightfully. I once saw the holey shoe in a gardening shop. This makes sense as they are far more suited for puttering in the yard. The holey clog is as destined to be found propped up out- side the backdoor of the avid gardener as it is rare to encounter fast-rising surf as you weed the daisies! What about us, the paddlers of the sea? The footy industry has scant concern that we are special needs sorts. We leap! And most our time spent leaping in and out of a kayak is onto awkward spots that are rocky or surf-pounded. Upon leaping we appreciate it if our footwear comes along for the ride. Is this too much to ask beyond profit margins that our holey shoes do more than float?
Probably, as the second problem with holeys lies in the essence of their design— the holes.
Did anyone at holey shoe central consider that what goes out also comes back in? It is simple physics that there is an equal reaction for every action. Drainage versus suction. A case in point: Two unfortunate tiny fishy souls who were trapped wiggling on my toes. Hapless victims of entry level physics, one in each shoe no less.
This happened as I lugged my kayak through a mucky canal sending all but two fish swimming away. The event brought to the surface childhood fears of creepy sea things nibbling my toes. The shredded wound inflicted by a piece of clam shell that I picked up while flushing the fish was a reminder that fashion and function ran hand in hand at my expense.
I am not the only one to peer through the shoe-holes and see the light. A friend working at an outfitter was offered a free pair if she would promote them by wearing them at work.
“Fire me if you want, I’m not wearing those!”
Perhaps an uprising has begun?
Admittedly, my cushy holeys I wear for everything—except kayaking. I now paddle in a pair of water shoes that, though they have holes, are so far fish-free and stay on! As for multipurpose foot duds, I have yet to find anything to match the fashion and function of my childhood favourite for both cruising the city and mucking about in the sea—a good solid pair of red sneakers.
David Barnes is an artist, photographer, and author of a self-published book of kayaking essays, Black Pearls of Wisdom: Tales of the Tribal Kayaker. He lives on Salt Spring island, British Columbia.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2007 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.
