I Bought Rocket Dogs in 2017

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I Bought Rocket Dogs in 2017

When I was thirteen, Rocket Dogs were everything. It was 1997, the Spice Girls were on the top of the world (to prebuscents and preteens anyway), and Chupa Chups were considered an accessory.

Picture this: a gawky young thing with braces, transparent skin and an oversized nose, itching to be cool and more grown up. Naturally, I’d want a pair of Rocket Dog platform flip-flops — t hey were my ticket to looking tall and mature. Isn’t that what every twelve year-old wants?

But like every other trend, platform flip-flops died out. They had a good run — I got two whole summers out of them — but like the Spice Girls, their time was up.

Then much to the delight of the twelve year-old still living somewhere inside of me, they resurfaced. It was during Fashion Week this past fall. I was four months pregnant, sweaty, uncomfortable and dying to go home when I saw them. Except they weren’t the plain black Rocket Dogs that usually came to mind when I was remembering my adolescence. These were striped. And multicolored! And they were on the feet of this impeccably dressed woman with long jet-black hair and perfect olive skin.

In reality, all that this woman was wearing was a silky navy button down and wide leg navy trousers, but she just looked spectacular — she was one of those people.

And then I saw her shoes. I was mesmerized.

It was already mid-September though and sandal season was coming to an end, so although I went searching for the flip-flops, I refrained from actually buying them.

A couple of weeks ago it started warming up and I remembered the cool Fashion Week woman in her striped Rocket Dogs. So I looked for them. I found them on Zappos for under forty bucks.

I ordered a few different styles — all striped — in both size seven and eight. I’d been on a little bit of an ordering binge (I was finally out of maternity clothes!), so I was expecting a slew of boxes, but only cared about this one (take that Matches!).

I opened the box faster than a kid tearing into his first Christmas gift — I couldn’t get them on fast enough. The ones with the darker colored stripes were the winners, so I threw them on in a seven.

Too short. Fucking big toe.

Thankfully I ordered the eights.

Not.

My foot was swimming. I threw the sevens back on just to double check. But really, my extra long big toe was hanging way off the front.

If removing half of it (it’s as long as a normal person’s ring finger) were a simple procedure, it’s something I’d seriously consider (it’s honestly the reason behind so many of my shoe problems). But instead, I acknowledged the defeat and packed up the Zappos box and shipped it back.

Some things are meant to stay in our pasts. I guess Rocket Dogs are that thing for me.

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Then much to the delight of the twelve year-old still living somewhere inside of me, they resurfaced.

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sandals: Rocket Dog

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