MR TWENTY-FIRST century strikes a pose on the pages of a 1939 issue of
British Vogue. He wears a jumpsuit, belt and waistcoat festooned with
hardware. His hat— two nested steel haloes—is “an antenna snatching
radio out of the ether,” Vogue tells us. Not quite today’s mobile-phone
man, but close. However, as we reach his socks, the best Vogue’s
futurologist can come up with is “disposable”. On your feet today, rubbish
tomorrow.
Throw-away insults are nothing new for socks. And that’s not all they have to
put up with. Over a day, the average human foot gives off at least half a cup of
moisture—manna from heaven for all those odour-causing microorganisms. Yet
socks are among the most ancient of human inventions—an Egyptian mummy’s
knitted socks are arguably the oldest surviving examples, although hand-sewn
versions may date back to the Bronze Age. They surely deserve a better future
than consignment to the bin.
Our dismissive and derisive attitude seems particularly harsh at this time of
year, when socks do such sterling work as a present of last-resort for those
hard-to-shop-for relatives. Let’s face it, they make the perfect Christmas
gift. They’re practical, affordable, personal and yet not too intimate. And what
could be more appropriate at Yuletide than a gift of socks, as the younger
family members hang out their own stockings to receive gifts.
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Apparently, the Christmas stocking tradition began when jolly Saint Nicholas
happened by a meagre dwelling one evening. He popped up to the chimney and threw
down some gold coins, which conveniently fell straight into the stockings that
the poor folk had hung out to dry above the fire. Villains, of course, have long
been aware that socks make an excellent place to stash your cash, which is why
the baddies in American gangster films always ask one another, “How much you
figure he’s got socked away?”
Not everyone appreciates the sock’s versatility, though. Albert Einstein
famously eschewed socks altogether, apparently regarding them as an unnecessary
luxury. The implied asceticism of the great thinker, too engrossed in higher
musings to worry about the comfort of his feet, fascinated me as a swotty youth.
I too went sockless—while the summer lasted, at least. As the frost began
to bite, I couldn’t help wondering, might Einstein have been wrong?
Socks do so much for us and yet ridicule is never far away. The hat, the
glove, and even the shoe have acquired chivalric and almost mystical
associations, notes fashion historian Jeremy Farrell of Nottingham’s Museum of
Costume and Textiles. “But stockings and socks have rarely enjoyed the
limelight,” he concedes. Ask yourself: if Cinderella had left a sock rather than
her slipper behind, would Prince Charming have come running?
Some relief from this obscurity came on 15 May 1940, otherwise known as
“N-Day”, when nylon stockings first went on sale. The chemicals giant DuPont
described its new miracle fibre, invented by the brilliant pioneer of polymers,
Wallace Carothers, as “finer than a spider’s thread, stronger than steel and
more elegant than silk”.
American women were very impressed. On the first day alone, 780,000 pairs
were sold. They were unavailable in Britain while the war lasted, but when peace
returned, nylons became many a woman’s most valued possession. “They were
terribly precious,” says Valerie Mendes of the Victoria and Albert Museum in
London. “My mother kept hers in a jam jar.”
When nylon made its way into men’s socks, the result was less desirable. But
in the past decade a whole new raft of synthetic fabrics has led to renewed
excitement about socks. Since the early 1990s, when Japanese scientists found a
way to create microfibres that could be made into breathable textiles, these new
“chameleon fibres” have proved endlessly versatile. And socks are at the cutting
edge.
The latest spin-off from the microfibre revolution is known as
micro-encapsulation. The process bonds microscopic bubbles of almost anything
you want to the ultra-fine fibres. The scope is endless. This Christmas, for
example, a range of scented socks is on sale at Britain’s Marks & Spencer
clothing outlets. In the men’s department you can buy socks that smell of
“seaside” or “cut grass” while women are offered “revitalising”, “soothing” or
“lavender” odours. Fight stress by sniffing your socks. Lasts for several
washes.
If you don’t fancy stockings with built-in moisturiser, or vitamin-release
leggings, then how about sports socks guaranteed to smell chlorine-fresh? A
researcher at the University of California at San Francisco claims to have a
remedy for smelly feet. Chemist Gang Sung says that any pongy bacteria hiding in
his experimental socks are killed by the chlorine, which is released from
halamines bonded to textile fibres. The footwear’s anti-smell properties are
easily recharged by a quick wash in chlorine bleach, he adds.
Alternatively, if it’s “high-performance” footwear you’re after, the two-sock
system is among the latest gizmos on offer in outdoor-pursuit shops. The inner
sock, often made of “tetra-channel” polyester microfibres, trademarked “CoolMax”
by DuPont, is designed to draw perspiration away from the skin towards the
fabric’s surface, where it can evaporate more easily. This keeps active feet
drier and less likely to blister.
Already tested on US Marines,this technology may soon be adopted by the
British Army. After years of marching on a basic blend of 80 per cent wool and
20 per cent old-style nylon (available in green, black or blue), “a new two-sock
system is under development”, says a spokeswoman for the Ministry of Defence.
The new kit goes on trial next summer under the auspices of the Defence Clothing
and Textiles project.
Another route to blister-free feet could be DuPont’s “non-stick” Teflon
fibre, now woven into cycling socks marketed by an Italian company, Pieffe
Sport. DuPont is also promoting the low-friction socks for people with diabetes,
whose feet can be vulnerable to damage and infection if the circulation is
restricted.
But all this is just a teaser. Wait till you see what’s about to emerge from
the top polymer labs. You guessed it: genetically modified socks. The goal is to
engineer living organisms to do what human chemists cannot: control the sequence
and length of polymer chains to a degree that is otherwise impossible. This new
generation of biosynthesised polymers will “transform our lives in countless
ways we can scarcely imagine,” according to DuPont. Many of us will live to see
biologically produced textiles—manufactured by yeast, bacteria or
plants—replace the chemical fibres now synthesised from fossil fuels.
Already in the wings are socks woven from DuPont’s genetically engineered
analogue of spider’s silk—the strongest material in the world.
All of which leaves you suspecting that Einstein might have done better by
his feet. One story has it that he gave up socks as a young man because his big
toes wore holes in them. You can’t help but think that if 21st century socks had
been around in Einstein’s day, he would have been happy to receive a pair.
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Further reading:
Nylon: The manmade fashion revolution,
by Susannah Handley (Bloomsbury, 1999) -
Socks and Stockings,
by Jeremy Farrell (Batsford, 1992)