The Chaco Look

Let’s be honest, Chacos are ugly. But thanks to a week of torrential rain, I am ashamed to say that I have deigned to don them.


Forgive me.

Yes, they are practical

Yes, they are pretty comfortable, despite the weird textured bottom.

Yes, they are supportive.

Yes, they fit all criteria for what my mother would call “sensible shoes.”

But they are ugly. Plain and simple. No opposing arguments allowed. And although the highly paid, presumably quinoa consuming, chaco “designers” create new patterns and colors for the straps, it still looks like some boy scout grabbed an industrial nylon rope and stuck it on some clunky rubber… and now is making millions. All for one and one for… or whatever the boy scout motto is.

I have spent a lifetime fervidly fighting for my right to never wear “sensible shoes.” I indulged in gold and patent leather, I coveted heels even though I am 7 feet tall, I insisted on wearing $3 Old Navy flip-flops in the snow, I trekked across the European continent in converse (or shall I say hobbled, thanks to the arch support-less canvas cuties), I waitressed (and at one point slipped down the stairs with a full tray of glasses) in black pointy kitten heals and I have been known time and time again to buy shoes a size too small because once you cross over from 10 to 11 (yes, I have ski feet) the shoes go from trendy- sparkle-fantasticness to big-mama-wide-as-they-are-long-super-comfort-boats-of-a-shoe. And I certainly NEVER allowed a single chaco, keen, merrel, neutralizer, or equally chunky, clunky, junky shoe in my closet.


“Oh Caitlin, you really need some sensible shoes,” my mother has hopelessly insisted since I was a miniature menina pining after the Payless version of Dorothy’s “There is no place like home” sparkly red Mary Jane that I saw other lucky little girls spitefully strut past me.

So why, you might ask, do I even own a pair of Chacos? Lets be honest, you might also be asking why the girl in gold sequined peep-toed stilettos even join the Peace Corps… but that is another story for another day…


No, they weren’t a gift. In fact, one of the first things I went out and bought after getting my invitation to Peace Corps was my 345345 lb pair of orange roped Chacos. But why?


1) There was a sale at REI (FYI Peace Corps Volunteers get 50% off Chacos, I didn’t know that until I got here. Too late).

2) I suppose I finally heard, internalized and acted upon my mother’s adage about there being nothing more essential than a sensible pair of shoes.

3) Mostly, I think, I was picturing my future self, living in a mud hut, guarded by lions, walking 234525 miles a day up-hill both ways in 87985 degree heat to get water and forage for food and insert other African stereotypes here… Obviously, under such circumstances, I would need a hearty, super durable, not your baby-mama’s sandal.


But since Peace Corps Pre-Service Training (ie 2008), where basically every volunteer no matter your fashion background donned the same unfortunate brand, my pair has been rotting in a suitcase where the things belong.


That is, until two days ago, when I pulled them out, dusted them off and began using the big chunk-a-chaco to top off (or should I say bottom out?) my sundresses – because, yes, it there is torrential rain, but it is still 80 degrees outside.


Believe me, they were not my go-to shoe. First, I slipped on my tried and true converse. But after sludging in the rain from the market to the school (maybe 1km) I was already squishing and sloshing in my socks. Converse out… not waterproof. Running shoes out… they were stolen a month ago. So what do I turn to in my time of wet wet need?


The Chaco look. Because they are tall enough that I can walk through puddles and muddy sand without getting my feet wet, they dry quickly and they are easy to clean… a pair of knee-high leather boots or bright red rubber galoshes would also fit these criteria… but I didn’t think to bring those and thus they are gathering cobwebs in my closet back home.