For fifteen years I bought socks like I buy batteries. Number on front matches vaguely with shoe size goes into trolley, job done, onto the next thing. Never even occurred to me that it was a decision that could have an actual right answer. This is bonkers to me now because I’ll will stand in Zara for forty minutes weighing up the merits of two identical navy jumpers before settling on one, but picking socks was always simple. Then I emptied my sock drawer one Sunday to sort it out – because my method of folding had apparently become one big tangled ball of sock that couldn’t be coaxed otherwise – and unfolded around thirty pairs. Put them on the bed and it became obvious straight away which ones had stayed proudly upright down my leg and which had not.
I own a pair of socks that have slowly but relentlessly worked their way so far down the inside of my shoe over the years that I now tuck my trousers in at work to cover my exposed leg when I sit down.
Another pair are so big that they essentially serve as legwarmers by lunchtime. Exact same size on both pairs. Utterly different outcomes when worn.
The moment I realised was when I sat there and looked down at all these injured socks and thought ‘hang on, I’ve never actually checked my sock size, I’ve just been… trusting a number?’ The number had lied to me.
So here it is. My real answer to ‘what is my sock size?’ And it’s not the one you’ll find on the back of most multipacks. Understanding your correct sock size is really about two things. Shoe size is kinda irrelevant to both of them. One is how that sock actually fits around your foot once you’ve been on your feet all day, and the other is the length you buy based on what you’re actually wearing it with. Get those two things sorted and suddenly shirt numbers don’t matter nearly as much. Get them wrong and you can own every possible “correct” size according to every stupid online chart and still find yourself wedging your foot into your sock like a wedge ligament after two hours just to keep it on your leg. I did this a week/month/year for about ten years because… why question a box?
Fit around your foot is more important than the number
If you’ve ever looked up sock sizes online you’ll know shoe size to sock size conversion is treated as gospel. It’s not. It’s a guess that makes zero allowances for the shape of your foot. Sure, I’m a UK 10 which ‘rounds me up’ in most peoples’ eyes to a “9 to 11” sock size, or sometimes they fuck you around with “guidelines” and it’s an “8 to 12”. Wide enough ranges there that knowing your sock size is practically useless. Feet aren’t easy shapes and two guys can have identical shoe sizes but completely different calf heights, arch lengths and foot circumference which frankly, is all the sock cares about. Your shoe size doesn’t dictate your sock size. How your sock fits around your actual foot does.
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The biggest giveaway isn’t even the size printed on the packet. It’s how the sock looks and feels after a day worn. Does it need an elasticated band around the arch to keep it up? Or is the top just a couple of inches of loose ribbing that assumes it’ll magically stay up by itself? Learned that lesson myself after I bought a cheap as fuck five pack on nothing more than calculated shoe size one day, and spent a whole working week (including a very long day with clients where I was bouncing up and down at the coffee machine more than anyone actually networking) before I’d slid so much in each pair that by Wednesday mymanager asked if I was okay. Me, who gets told he looks scruffy on his days off – he actually asked if I was wearing thin? Because I looked like I was struggling not to beat myself with my thighs. I was. With my socks. The right fitted sock, one that contours to your foot rather than relies on a size printed on a bag of socks won’t need managing all day. If it does then trust me when I say it’s not the right size.
The length you need is the bit people never think about
The other thing, and the one I screwed up for just as long as box shopping, is length. Not height, length. Length is something people assume is related to overall size when it isn’t at all. You can have a sock that fits your foot circumference perfectly but it still isn’t right if you’re wearing it with the wrong length. I wear ankle socks with suits all the time because… they’re in my sock drawer? Didn’t realise until I was stood crossing my legs in meetings and flashes of shiny skin were showing down both sides every single time, that there were socks long enough to cover my calf.
It’s literally the smallest detail but suddenly not having a stripe of sockless skin on show when I sit down felt… smarter?
Once I changed to proper socks, over the calf length ones with suits it sorted itself out immediately and wouldn’t have cost me a penny had I thought to adjust my sock buying criteria years ago.
The inverse is true too. Calf length socks with trainers on the weekend, when no-one’s going to see above your ankle anyway are just bunched up material getting in the way of your foot. Another lesson I should have realised myself years ago. Feel like there’s a dog’s leash tied around your ankle all day just from wearing the wrong length sock. Seriously.
Sock length and foot fit aren’t about what size you are. They’re about what you’re wearing them with and, in the case of fit, how they look and feel at the end of the day. Get those two things right and suddenly size doesn’t matter. Ask anyone who gets it wrong and they’ll tell you they’ve spent far more than they should trying to prove that ‘label lied to me’ excuse wrong.
