There has been a new fashion trend exploding out of Toronto: a city known for it’s sub-par hockey team and copying everything that Drake does. But this latest fashion craze has come from civilians not the 6 God himself. Recently, Crocs have received a lot of flack for being “absolute garbage.” I will admit that I have shared that opinion, but with this revitalization, Crocs are coming back. The newest craze is Crocs and Clorox. And I know you might be thinking, “But TooMuchDog, that’s surely unhealthy! That’s not a fashion trend that people can sustain! Also, how would that even work?” Well alas fair children, I shall answer these questions and more as I endeavor to understand the fashion concept of Crocs and Clorox for myself, and delve into the repressed memories associated with this ungodly piece of plastic.

So first, I needed to buy a pair of Crocs: I haven’t owned a pair since Grade 4 when my parents bought me a pair of camo crocs because I wasn’t drowning in enough pussy already. I made a trip to the GAP, the place for all of your khaki, polo shirt and croc needs. I picked up a squeaky new pair of size 12 black Crocs. On the way back home I picked up a value size two litre bottle of economy Clorox. With all the pieces in place, I was ready to experience the fashion craze that had been sweeping the GTA.

Now there are many questions with regards to how this craze actually takes fruition. Do I put on a pair of wooly socks and fill them with Clorox and then put my feet in the shoes? Do I dunk the Crocs in a Clorox bath and hold them down like that child I held down in the bath during my understandably brief babysitting career? I eventually decided to come to a consensus between the two of them: I’m pouring half the bottles in my socks and then wearing my Crocs, and then drinking the other half of the bottle. I will check back in a few hours after there is progress with my feelings on the movement.

So it’s been two hours–I feel like dying, and not because of the cheap Clorox burning through my stomach lining, or because the black Crocs are burning a hole directly through the fabric of my soul, but the crushing weight of my existence and existential dread I feel on a daily basis due to the unknown facts the human species have yet to discover. I believe this has been unlocked as a cause of the Croc-Clorox combo, and the appeal of this movement is incredibly clear to me. This is no longer a review of fashion, but a cry for help. I have tried to drown my demons, but Crocs FUCKING FLOAT. I don’t know why, but the feeling accompanied with wearing Crocs has an effect worse than a week of mental torture in a Russian gulag, and currently there is no scientific reason as to why.

It’s now been over four hours, and I’m here in my garage without a lamborghini or knowledge. I do however have a lawn chair, these fucking crocs, and more self-loathing than someone with a lot of self-loathing. I have promised to myself that after I put myself through this, I will discover why Crocs have the effect that they do. I’m pushing my body further to the brink by lighting up and smoking more than a retired man from the south who owns a rocking chair and a porch; I had a brainstorm as to why my life is a mess and why Crocs amplify that fact. My life being a mess is plainly apparent to me and I won’t explain here, I prefer to save that story for first dates. As for Crocs, they are a slip-and- slide for your feet. Walking around in them makes your feet sweaty and gets the “shoe” stickier than the bathroom floor of Trinity Social. The last thing you want is when you’re running (probably away from a stampede of girls chasing you for that sweeeeeet d.) is for your sweaty foot to keep going through your shoe and slip right out of one of those stupid holes at the front of your shoe. Secondly, can we please talk about how bad the back and knee support is on Crocs? They are as useful for your skeletal system as putting your feet in tissue boxes and wearing those around. (That’s all I have. No big rant this time.) Thirdly, they will eventually smell like shit, and if you wear them outside once, they will get dirty, and your feet will get four shades darker each time you put your feet in the shoes. Finally, there is only one outfit that Crocs go with: bathrobe not tied together, knee socks with a hole in one leg, a beanie with holes in it or hair that hasn’t been washed in at least three days, bags under your eyes blacker than the pit of despair in your heart due to the wearing of said Crocs, and no underwear because you like to let everyone see what you’ve got under your untied robe. If you aren’t wearing this outfit and care less for your life than a white man saying the N-word at a music festival, then Crocs will weed their way into your mind and break down your psyche piece by piece until you’re left in your untied bathrobe crying in the corner of your running shower.

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