By Rich Kane
By Joel Beers
By LP Hastings
By Dave Barton
By Patrice Wirth Marsters
By Erin DeWitt
By Taylor Hamby
By LP Hastings
Go anywhere this summer (and hurry up 'cause we hate you)—the Louvre, Evita's tomb, Frida Kahlo's house, Nixon's point break—and you'll spend a lot of time looking at other people's bare feet. It sucks.
Guys are kinda ugly all over anyway, but even a lot of women have ugly feet in sandals. So it's really the sandal lobby's fault: there's really only a few sandals that are worth a damn.
Top of the list for women is probably the T-strap sandal—which is rather fetching for some reason—followed by almost anything dressy or with a heel. Women get a big fat pass here because they're pretty and because they can paint their toenails and get pedicures and smell nice. Know any guys with a pedicure?
Top-of-the-list sandal for guys—it's right up there for women, too—is, oddly, the flip-flop. I had to look at a lot of Texas feet last week in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport (where they rack The New Yorker upside-down and, oddly, the Muzak is always New Order) to figure this out. After that women's lacrosse incident last year when the players wore flip-flops to the White House, I hated flip-flops, but they are simply so streamlined they can't be visually objectionable. They are, however, very casual; the only White House event you should wear them to is a clambake at Cotton's Point, the break outside the former Western White House in San Clemente. They're perfect for guys, though—easy and impossible to screw up.
Otherwise, guys have a short list of good sandals. I hate slider sandals 'cause they remind me of shower sandals—which are always verboten—or else the International Male catalog which I read in the late '80s without irony or knowing that . . . you know. I'm embarrassed to say that I don't hate Flojos. They look like these '60s sandals my dad bought from some hippie company up north: utilitarian without being terrible.
And they don't have Velcro. This is key. Velcro is sometimes acceptable on a shoe—the leather Chuck Taylors with Velcro closures being the prime example—but on a sandal? Never. Someone should have told the middle-aged couple I sat across from on the flight back to John Wayne. Wire-rimmed glasses, T-shirts tucked into high-waisted shorts, Velcroed sandals—it was all like an audition for the live-action King of the Hill.