Crocs

Crocs always creeps me out a little bit. Small rubber shoesies with holes in them are all fun and games for kidlets, but elongating and widening them to accomodate big feet, or worse man feet, well that is just plain wrong, and creepy. Watching an adult walk in these when they’ve never had lightweight large rubber comfortable footwear is like watching a baby take its first steps. You wait with baited breath for them to fall, butt to the floor.
The store itself is flippin heck crazy BRIGHT! Almost blinding with the strip light craziness. I wish that’s where the crazy ends, but my cousin and her damn feet, insisted on dragging me in here, apparently there are benefits for arches and massage and all that, but on anyone but children they’re bloody awful. Even when the badges are put through the holes in the top it helps the issue none! Shoe quality in line with price is another issue, for what they charge for these polystyrene cups in bright colours, the quality and duration is just outrageous.
Meh. Kids yes, adults, nooooooooooooooooooooo.

Crocs is an alternative shop. That’s all I can really say, because rather than particularly liking or disliking their shoes in any way, I’m just confused.
As far as I can tell, they’re just weird, brightly-​coloured bits of rubber that you put on your feet and look silly in. Now, these other reviews are saying that they’re meant to be really comfortable and stuff, but aren’t most shoes generally comfortable? Why do they have to be rubber and ridiculous looking?
I have to say I don’t think I’ll be getting a pair myself. And if my girlfriend does, well, I’ll just look at her like she’s a oddball and encourage her to get some normal shoes instead.

I remember when I first saw ‘Crocs’ on someone, I thought to myself, ‘What in the name of God are they!’ That was my exact reaction which hasn’t changed till date and I mean that sentence in a negative shocking way.
They’re rubber blobs with holes on them put over your feet and apparently they’re hit! Then there’s an attempt at putting different brooches on them (and I though brooches were for clothes and scarves!) and making them ‘stylish’ and of course as mentioned by Emma before, the whole faux fur winter boots! Ugh, I don’t understand from which angle they even look like shoes!
I know that my utter disgust towards them is now being argued over by many who find them most comfortable and amazing to be in, but c’mon don’t looks count for even 5%? I’ve heard the stories of how great they actually are when you try them, but I beg to differ and I’m happy with my regular flip flops at home. And I wouldn’t want to step out in those… ermm ‘shoes’!
So the 3 stars are solely to popular demand of them, but personally I’m not a Croc-​ky person, you would like the store if you want to be in that league!

WHY?
Okay, okay, don’t bombard me with information, I’ve heard everything there is to hear from Croc diehards, I’ve heard about the comfort, I’ve witnessed testimonies stating that they are the best thing people have ever bought, I’ve even been privy to sinful confessionals… ‘I’d never wear them in public, but I put them on when I get home — they’re bliss.‘
Whatever you say. I’m not giving in. The name is cute, the crocodile on the logo is cute, the shoes are not. Shoes, sandals, clogs, what the heck are they? When did they start piling them with faux fur and claiming that ‘Winter Crocs’ exist? When did they start making them in boot form? It was these monstrosities that I was eyeing up with morbid curiosity when a sales assistant in this bizarre standalone store in the Arndale Centre tried to start a conversation with me. Right, that’s the unholy two taken care of then. This shop has Crocs; this shop has pushy attendants.
I’m not bullying them, I swear. There are times when a Croc is useful. Your little anklebiters can wear them when they’re toddling around finding their feet. They look kind of sweet on babies. (It’s when they reach adult size proportions that the whole thing gets creepy, like that middle-​aged woman on the train licking her lips while she reads the Twilight novels.) They’re a functional if very unattractive alternative to flip flops on holiday, I mean, those holes must mean they can breathe. I can’t help but think though that Crocs in a Mediterranean country signal the stampede of we oikish British, rather like requests for ketchup alongside paella and screenings of EastEnders in bars. And rumour has it they’re great for people with foot conditions, like enlarged joints. But considering I fall into none of these categories (no, I don’t care if my parents live in a hot climate, I get mistaken for Spanish over there and want it to stay that way) then I have yet to succumb to the Croc and I can’t see it happening anytime soon.
And I’ve heard plenty of hilarious yet rather horrifying stuff about how flimsy they are. You don’t want to be stepping on a nail in those delightful lime green Crocs now, do you. That’d just be nasty. (Okay, I admit, that can apply to certain flip flops too, but come on, Crocs market themselves on being made of polystyrene.)
So, I shall conclude this most subjective review with the words: great for the fans, not so much for me. Simples?