Rarely do I feel compelled to review a product on Amazon, but the
Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Sock, 6-pack was that once-in-a-blue-moon product that required sharing my feelings with the internet. Here is the text of my review:
LIES LIES LIES, August 30, 2010
This review is from: adidas Men's No Show Athletic Sock, 6-Pack (Apparel)
"No Show Socks"? More like "The Scarlet Letter of Betaness." This product just breaks my heart. I lived under the Ankle Sock-ocracy for years, decades, accepting that I was forever doomed to be branded with that glaring white material covering my ankle and upper foot, proof for all to see that I would never be "a cool, chill guy." Then I discovered No Show Socks.
No Show Socks opened up a whole new world to me. Suddenly I felt more carefree, more confident. I got better at sports, using all the energy I'd previously wasted worrying about my socks to focus on the game. Women who wouldn't have given me the time of day in the Ankle Sock era were all of a sudden striking up conversations with me, and I was bantering back effortlessly.
My first foray into the No Show Socks market had been a generic brand from my local department store. Drunk on the success of that purchase, I figured any product that had "No Show Socks" in the title would be similarly transformative. And when this 6-pack of Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks arrived in my mailbox, I tore the box open like a kid on Christmas. I ripped off the ankle-high socks I was wearing around the house (don't currently have enough No Shows to waste on sleeping) and put on a pair of my new Adidas socks. I was in such a hurry that I put my sneakers on as I was opening and shutting the door behind me.
Leaving my apartment building, the sun shone brightly and I paraded around the neighborhood like a peacock in full strut. But slowly I started noticing that people weren't treating me the same way as they had with my generic brand No Show Socks. Men my age ignored me instead of admiring my style. Teenagers giggled to themselves. And women studiously avoided eye contact with me, let alone conversation.
What was going on? I was baffled. And that's when an elderly gentleman shuffled by me and gave me a knowing look, as if we shared something, were part of the same club. I smiled and nodded at him, a bit confused. Then I looked down at his feet. He was wearing Adidas Ankle Socks - not only white, but emblazoned with a giant three-striped logo. OK, so he was wearing Adidas too, but how did he know that I was, or even that I was wearing socks? I was wearing No Shows. That's when I caught a glimpse of my own feet. Staring back at me was not a sliver, not a slice, but a WEDGE of white material stretching nearly to my ankle. How could this be?! I thought I was done with socks showing! And then, then I looked closer. And I discovered the coup de grace. Not only was the white of my socks showing, but so was THE BLACK ADIDAS LOGO! A logo showing on socks, the only thing that can one-up the horror of the white material itself.
Suffice it to say my psyche has been ruined by these socks. No longer do I consider myself a virile, athletic, confident young man. I now have more in common with the mindset of my grizzled, beaten-down-by-life fellow Adidas sock wearer - accepting the limitations of my existence, merely seeking the crumbs this world will throw me.
I looked into a class action lawsuit against Adidas, but was told that the lawyers usually take all the fees and you end up with nothing. How fitting. That's what you'll end up with if you buy this product - nothing. No money, no success, no friends, no lovers. Just the Scarlet Letter of Betaness, that white strip of material and the black stripes of the Adidas logo. Everything in this world is Black and White, and this product is no different. There's a bright line separating No Show Socks from Show Socks, and Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks are firmly on one side. The Show Side. The Dark Side.
Jared's Mom: And I saved the best gift for the last night!
