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" On a recent Sunday afternoon, I started talking about socks with my father. Like a lot of men, I picked up most of my dressing habits from my dad, and for as long as I can remember, his top drawer has been stuffed with a dozen pairs of black nylon dress socks, rolled up into tight little balls and restocked twice a year from the same shelf at the same store. Socks just weren&amp;#039;t something he thought twice about, and so they were never something I thought twice about, and when we started talking about socks (for God knows what reason) and I asked him why he never experimented with colors or patterns, he shrugged. &amp;quot;The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself by wearing argyle or something,&amp;quot; he said. &amp;quot;Not unless you&amp;#039;re an asshole.&amp;quot; This is a ... what&amp;#039;s the word? ... conservative approach to men&amp;#039;s socks, and it&amp;#039;s the one that most of us take, most of the time: Keep &amp;#039;em quiet. You wear socks to protect your shoes from your feet, your feet from your shoes, and the world from the sight of your hairy ankles, and the less anyone sees of them the better. But that&amp;#039;s just one approach. One of my favorite P. G. Wodehouse stories involves a beef between Bertie Wooster and His Man Jeeves over a pair of Bertie&amp;#039;s beloved &amp;quot;rather priceless purple socks.&amp;quot; And there&amp;#039;s the 1924 article in the fashion periodical Men&amp;#039;s Wear that advocates colorful socks by asking, &amp;quot;Who wears this vivid hose? They wear it who dare.&amp;quot; (Emphasis theirs.) And there&amp;#039;s Andr\u00E9 Benjamin, who told Esquire a few years ago that the right pair of socks, among other accessories, is &amp;quot;really, really, really important.&amp;quot; (That&amp;#039;s right: three reallys.) There is a robust tradition of men drawing attention to themselves with their socks, and though I can&amp;#039;t vouch for the Men&amp;#039;s Wear writer, I&amp;#039;m pretty sure Andr\u00E9 Benjamin isn&amp;#039;t an asshole. So whose approach is the right one? Having worn nothing but dark, anonymous-looking socks for the past eight years, I decided to spend a few weeks test-driving all different makes of socks \u2014 jaunty stripes, kinetic patterns, brightly colored solids. And from the first day, when I wore a pair of navy-blue Etro socks with light-pink stars, I saw a sharp uptick in the number of double takes and &amp;quot;nice/great/cool socks&amp;quot; that came my way. Most of the compliments seemed genuine \u2014 impressed, even \u2014 except when louder colors (fire-engine red, electric blue) and busier patterns (cracked-out plaids, drunk zigzags) elicited snickers from men who, I couldn&amp;#039;t help but notice, were wearing dark, anonymous-looking socks. Whatever. That&amp;#039;s the price one pays for stepping out, but it was a good lesson to keep things relatively restrained. Other things I learned: Take care when mixing patterned socks with patterned pants \u2014 if you&amp;#039;re wearing pinstripe trousers, avoid horizontal-striped socks and instead try a subdued plaid or solid. No matching the color of your socks to the dominant color of anything else you&amp;#039;re wearing (i.e., solid blue socks to a solid blue shirt) \u2014 that can look a little desperate. And no novelty socks, not ever. The most important thing I learned, though, and what I&amp;#039;d never really given much thought to before, was to pay close attention to what my socks were made of. Cotton and nylon (or some combination of the two) are the standard materials for dress socks, but they might not be your best option. I tried a couple of cotton-and-polyester, borderline-sheer, over-the-calf socks that had me slipping around in my shoes while they squeezed the hell out of my calves. I tried thick-gauge cotton socks that gave me some nice padding underfoot but wouldn&amp;#039;t stay up around my shins. And just as I was about to give up on finding socks that felt just right, I discovered two pairs (from Pantherella and Punto) made from an 80-20 blend of mercerized cotton and nylon-soft, absorbent, and thin enough that my feet could breathe. Perfect. That&amp;#039;s just me, though. Every man&amp;#039;s feet are different, and you should spend some time and money to find out what&amp;#039;s most comfortable for you. (As a general rule of thumb, Massimiliano Bresciani, the second-generation namesake behind some of the world&amp;#039;s best socks, suggests trying wool-silk blends for winter, pure linen for summer, and pure cotton for year-round use.) I&amp;#039;m now partial to mercerized cotton and nylon, but I&amp;#039;m still experimenting with pattern and color. And will I draw attention to myself, and maybe even invite others (Hi, Dad!) to call me an asshole? Absolutely. But that&amp;#039;s a small price to pay for standing out at all. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/style/advice/a8646/best-colorful-socks-100710/>