After the lunchtime dance class I dropped by the park near my place. A bunch of vendors line up their bongo trucks on one side of the park and ply their wares. They sell everything from tools to clothing to kitchen utensils. I’d only gone to browse, but when I saw the sock truck, I remembered that I needed socks for the upcoming cooler weather. The grandmotherly vendor smiled and encouraged me to look through the boxes of socks she had set out on folding tables.
I was drawn to one box which held cutesy styles. The halmony came over, looked down at my size 41 skippies, gently took my elbow and led me over the table with men’s socks. She was so smooth with it that I chuckled to myself. I’m not much of a girly girl, but once in a while I like a bit of color on my feet. The men’s boxes only contained black, grey, brown and navy. I bought two pairs of black socks that I could wear with my work trousers. When the vendor was bagging my purchase, she threw in a pair of black footsies. “Service,” she said, which to Koreans means complimentary or freebie. I guess it was to ease the sting of wordlessly telling me that my feet were too big for the feminine socks.
October 2012
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