At some point in my 20s I decided it made sense to have a drawer filled with identical white socks. You rarely see socks anyway, so why waste time matching them? But Lyla's classroom has a no-shoe policy to keep the carpet sanitary for all the crawlers. You have to enter with your socks on display for the world.
The parents of Lyla's classmates seem very well-to-do, and from what I've seen, they all have nice socks. Plus, as I pull up in my 2002 gray Corolla with the one working headlight and park next to an Audi, a Lexus, a Mercedes, and, I kid you not, a Porsche SUV, I start to feel self-conscious about my socks.
So I've given up the white socks and replaced them with dress socks of various colors and patterns. These damn yuppies are turning me into a metrosexual.
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