This is my submission for “BlogBlog Club Gathering - February 2026”. This month’s theme is “Only Me?”, hosted by Wiwi. If you have your own blog, feel free to join!
Since some point, there’s been only one choice in my sock drawer — toe socks.
Whenever I go to a friend’s place, escape rooms, or any situation requiring shoe removal, people’s reactions to my socks are usually: “Huh? Isn’t that hard to put on?” or “Looks really weird.” But for me, it’s a habit I can’t go back from. Just like when you’re used to typing on a mechanical keyboard, going back to membrane keys feels like something’s missing.
At First It Was Just for Hiking
I bought my first pair of toe socks for hiking. At the time, I was sweating a lot and my feet were suffocating in my shoes. Someone told me toe socks absorb sweat better, and with toes separated, there’s less clammy feeling between them—especially important when staying overnight on the mountain. So my whole family bought a pair to try. The first time wearing them was indeed a bit awkward—had to line up each toe one by one, redo if I got it wrong. But once on, it did feel kind of strange. The whole sole felt stuffy, everywhere wrapped up, like an added sense of presence. The feeling of each toe being separated was very noticeable; I even started noticing my feet while walking.
But the moment I really thought they were “not bad” was the second day of hiking. The day before I walked several hours uphill; coming down, my feet were already a bit swollen and tired. Normally in these situations, the space between toes gets clammy and sticky, even some chafing discomfort. But that time there wasn’t. When I took off my shoes, my feet were dry, no clammy feeling built up between toes. In that instant I realized—comfort isn’t about the first second, it’s about how you feel all day. After that, I slowly got used to that feeling of “each toe has its own place.” Later on, it became weird wearing regular socks—felt too tight, too sticky, too stuffy.
Once You Try It, You Can’t Go Back
Wearing toe socks to go out, ride bikes, even run—I started noticing details I never cared about before:
- Toes don’t rub against each other
- Less stickiness after sweating
- Better stability in shoes
- Less stuffy feet after long walks
The difference is most noticeable during exercise. Over time, my regular socks in the drawer decreased. After doing laundry, I always reached for toe socks first. One day I realized—I hadn’t worn regular socks in months.
Everyone Says It Looks Really “Weird”
Honestly, toe socks really do look weird. Every time I take off my shoes, people say: “Why are you wearing those?!” But I’ve gotten used to it by now. Because when something is truly comfortable and truly suits you, you don’t really care what others think. It’s like you won’t switch back to Windows just because someone says using Linux is troublesome, and you won’t start adding sugar to your black coffee just because someone laughs it’s too bitter.
I Only Wear Toe Socks
Now my sock drawer is simple — open it, all toe socks. Colors are pretty similar—black is most common, occasional gray pairs; thin ones for summer, thick ones for winter. No fancy designs, no collecting hobby—just simply wearing what’s comfortable. I’m not trying to be different, not trying to express any attitude. It’s not cool, even kind of funny. But it’s comfortable, practical, and has accompanied me through many miles—from mountain trails, playgrounds, to daily commutes.
Some choices don’t need reasons. Just like how someone always sits in the same seat, someone prefers a certain keyboard feel, someone must have a cup of coffee every day. For me, this little preference is toe socks. After a while, it’s no longer an experiment—it becomes a habit that quietly weaves into life. No special announcement, no deliberate persistence, just naturally — I just wear toe socks.