Nighttime Sock Selection: A Beginner's Guide

This resource is dedicated to my husband, who approaches my sock drawer with trepidation, as if I just asked him to find my favorite tampons at the pharmacy.

I understand his dilemma, because for someone like me with chronic pain, getting to sleep at night is more of a circus act than it is a science. It begins with massaging my neck, then stretching out my other aches. I wrap an ice pack around my head while I brush my teeth and put on multiple layers of pajamas. Then I take my usual pills, each of which is strong enough to sedate an elephant, and if I'm having a migraine, a second round of pills is in order. I read in the light of my green migraine lamp until the drugs (hopefully) kick in, and then it's time...time to change my socks!

The sock selection process is the most critical operation of them all. Not just any pair of socks will do, and sometimes, more than one pair is needed to survive the night. So, if I ever ask you to "just get me a pair of socks," you'll need to be familiar with all the information in this guide.

In order to learn the skill of sock selection, we must begin with an explanation of my foot temperature regulation problem, which is likely caused by migraines, hormones, or some combination of the two:

And now, let's open my sock drawer...

Bombas All-Purpose Performance Quarter Socks

Featuring cushioned footbeds, honeycomb arch supports, and stay up "technology", it's $54 for a 3-pack of these Cadillacs. That's $9 for a single sock. Of course, some of that money goes toward the Bombas promise–every pair purchased is a pair donated–but if I'm the one funding the free socks, I'd prefer to have the tax write-off myself, thank you very much.

Despite the  wokeness surcharge, I must admit that these socks are pretty great for the first half of the night, when my shivering tootsies keep me awake. They really are the ultimate cozy foot hug, until about 3 am, when my feet sweat and swell and what I thought was a warm embrace becomes a death-grip around my ankles and I'm suddenly having dreams about my toes getting run over by a bus. Also, each of these socks is labeled either "R" or "L". Really, a right and left sock?! Don't expect me to keep that straight.

Mom's Old Hiking Socks

Circa 1995, the year my family escaped Chicago for the Denver suburbs. Sturdy, dependable, comfortable, warm, breathable...they really don't make 'em like this anymore. These socks are weathered to a vintage shine, and stretched out enough to avoid foot smothering but no so much that they come sliding off. They are perfection, the only socks that can last me through the night. But I have only one pair of these irreplaceable beauties, so they must be protected at all costs: I don't wear them outside the house, they don't get packed for vacations, and I wash them (a.k.a. send them to the den of the bloodthirsty sock-eater) only when strictly necessary.

Swag Socks

These are given out regularly at my husband's office, despite the fact that his company has nothing to do with feet, footwear, or athletics. But they clearly put my secret twin in charge of the employee perks department, because this place dishes out more colorful, lightweight socks than they do raises. So far, I have six of the same pair. These socks aren't warm enough for the early evening ice age, but they make a good second act. Their ubiquitousness and replaceability also makes them ideal for travel, emergency replacements, and other risky sock scenarios. 

Costco Ankle Socks

These only come out in warm weather as another option for late night foot coverage. It costs something like two bucks for fifty pairs. That's a great deal, if you ignore the rest of the eight-hundred-dollar Costco haul that won't fit in the car. And with the large variety of patterns, it's fun to mix-and-match, but beware: the solid color socks are too tight, while the striped and polka dotted ones are more roomy. The periwinkles are especially tiny, so it's best to just throw those out from the get-go. Or donate them to get a tax write-off!

Custom-Printed My Face Socks

Given to me by a friend as a joke (I hope?), these socks are both striking and supportive, emotionally speaking. After all, how could I not enjoy stepping on my own smiling face all day? They're too big for most purposes (except for when toes are in bandages...more on that later), and they're also difficult to explain to just about everyone, including nosey neurologists. But I'll keep them around to sell on eBay when I make it big as either a writer or a migraine celebrity.

Pretty simple, right? With the proper socks either on my feet or safely tucked under my pillow for easy retrieval later, I'm finally ready to turn out the lights. The odds are still about 50/50 that I'll fall asleep, but as long as my toes are happy, I guess I'll take my chances.