Crocs. Those foam shoes. They’re inappropriate footwear for almost every situation, a major fashion faux pas. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. And yet, they’re so awesome. It’s my secret shame, people: I fucking love my Crocs. Especially the “Cayman” or “classic” clogs.

They’re wonderfully cushy, insulating my feet against the hardest of surfaces. Standing for long periods of time is more comfortable with Crocs. They’re feather light. I can get them wet. In fact, they’re not only immune inside to even the worst foot odor, but impervious outside to every kind of filth I might step in. I don’t have to tie them or zip them or velcro them or anything. There’s only one moving part: the heel strap which lets me choose from slip-on or, swinging it behind my heel, a more secure fit. They come in more than twenty colors.

There’s only two downsides. First, wearing them makes me slightly more prone to electrostatic shocks, such as when reaching for canned goods in the grocery store. And, second, well… It’s the fashion thing. For the most part, I can’t wear them. It’s just not done.

You know what, though? Sometimes I do wear them. I wear them when I’m cooking or doing the dishes. They’re great for taking the dogs out. And, yes, I sometimes even wear them to the grocery store–in public!

If I were king of the world, you’d be able to wear your Crocs more often. Farmer’s market? Yes. Dog park? Of course. Grocery shopping? I already do that. General around-the-house and errand running on a summer Saturday? Why, yes.

Out for dinner? No.

This last summer I figured out how to get Crocs goodness on the sly. I ordered myself a pair of Crocs flip-flops. They look just like any other flip-flops, only they have that Crocs cushion underneath. Best flops I’ve ever owned.