Sock It To Me.

"Those are old man socks."

My Sister-in-Law was critiquing my footwear. I was wearing khaki shorts, a T-shirt with a cartoon moose on it with the caption 'Grab life by the antlers,' black sneakers, and white crew socks.

I was not dressed stylishly, I'll give you that, but I never would have thought that the biggest fashion faux pas was the cotton around my ankles. As far as I was concerned, as long as they weren't knee-high black rayon, I was fine.

Apparently, I was wrong.

"I tell your brother the same thing all the time," she went on. I looked over at my brother. He was wearing a T-Shirt that proclaimed the University of North Carolina Tar Heels as Champions of the 2004 NCAA tournament, a hat that celebrated the Pittsburgh Steelers as the winners of Super Bowl Extra Large, blue shorts that had yet to declare any sort of sporting affiliation, and sandals without socks--perhaps his way of avoiding the argument.

He was also wearing an expression that seemed to say: "She tells me lots of things."

I like my Sister-in-Law well enough, but quite honestly, a 40-something prison nurse should not be the final arbiter of things sartorial.

So I appealed to a higher court, which was quite easy to find: my brother has three teenaged daughters.

Sarah, 17, was chatting with friends on the computer. I decided to frame the question in a way that would be most likely to get a favorable response. "Your mother thinks these are old man socks," I told her. "What do you think?"

Not a moment's hesistation. "Oh, yeah!" She said, looking with horror upon the abomination that is the white crew sock. "You need to be wearing ankle socks."

Unbelievable. Not that I had fallen out of fashion--but that there was such a thing as sock fashion.

And I hate ankle socks. I've worn them, and could never escape the feeling that I needed to pull them up.

"Too bad," I told her. Yeah, I know she could care less about what I wore, but I felt I needed to state my case. "I've seen trends come and go. I've seen clothes go from hideous to trendy and back, and then be dragged out again as retro. Do you know why I wear old man socks? Because I'm an old man. And that's what you really want."

She looked doubtful, so I went in for the kill. "There are men my age who wear ankle socks. Do you know what they're called?"

She shrugged that she didn't. I leaned forward, eyes blazing.

"DAVID HASSELHOFF!"

Sarah's eyes widened in horror. "I'll bet you any sort of money you want that David Hasselhoff wears ankle socks! Do you want me to be David Hasselhoff? Do you want to have to explain to your friends when they come over why David Hasselhoff has his ankle-socked feet up on your coffee table? Do you want your Dad to be David Hasselhoff?"

I held up my foot again. "What do you think about my socks now?"

"Fine! They're fine!" was her panicked reaction.

"And if your Dad wears them?

"Great! I'll love them!"

I nodded, satisfied. "Damn straight."

I suppose some may think that I might have gone a little bit overboard on the poor girl. And I suppose their might be some lingering psychological damage, but it was a chance I was willing to take. When kids (and some adults) begin to question the fashion choices of mid-forties guys, it behooves them to consider the alternatives.

Hell, I'm not that old, anyhow.

Now, please excuse me. My brother's recorded a bunch of episodes of Simon and Simon, and I don't want to keep him waiting.

Yeharr