My mother, who keeps me in the loop on America’s talk news
shows and investigative reports, told me that China is the sock capital of the
world. Sure enough, she’s right. Detong, northwest of Beijing, produces an annual 13.5 billion pairs of socks, enough to
provide two pairs of socks for every individual on the planet.
Now considering how many socks are made in China,
you’d think I could find a pair that would cover one’s calf. Is that too much
to ask? I’ve searched in Wal-mart, Carrefour,
fancy department stores such as Parkson’s and Golden Eagle, and even the blanket
displays in bootlegger park.
Yet all the socks for sale barely cover one’s
ankle bone.
Mind you, in China you can buy everything sports related, including chicken frisbies, but not sports tube socks.
You can get cotton candy balls, but no
cotton knee highs.
There are little old ladies willing to make
you a custom pair of shoes, but sorry, no socks.
For those who want to stitch together
your own designer wardrobe, you can get bootleg labels by the dozen.
If you don’t mind get ticketed by the fasion police, you can get this panty hose fuzzy slipper commuter combo, but not
a pair of Hane’s sweat socks.
Even finding underwear is under weird.
Pepsi is now competing with fruit of the loom.
I wonder if they make your nether region
tingle?
Luckily, my mother in law sent me socks for
Christmas. Of course, they were made in China, shipped to America, marked up
800% at Nordstrom’s then shipped back here, making them the most expensive item
in my wardrobe.
So where is this secret place where they sell socks for those who don’t dare to bare their calves? Probably inside one of these government buildings.