日本語版掲載予定

---

The Originator

One night in the mid-90s, an old classmate called me at my apartment in New York City. I immediately assumed there must be a specific reason behind her call because international charges were quite steep back then; the only person who would call me from Japan was my mother.

Although I was pleasantly surprised by the call, we knew that a slow, leisurely conversation would result in insanely high charges, so we kept our exchange brisk and direct.

“Well, Yuki, I’ve been working on a show about investigating the originator of Loose Socks. And it appears that you are the very person.” I had heard that she was working for a TV production company in Japan.

In those days, Loose Socks were a phenomenal trend among Japanese high school girls, so called “Ko-gal” (little gal). They would artfully slouch their ribbed, thick white socks, pairing them with loafers or platform shoes.

I was utterly stunned to hear that I could be the originator of this fad and burst into laughter. She then explained, sounding rather apologetic, how they had arrived at this conclusion.

“Apparently, Loose Socks originally came from American athletic socks. We dug through various documents trying to answer the questions: When, where, and by whom were they modified and reinvented? That’s when we found a picture of you, Yuki, in high school, wearing what looked very much like Loose Socks in the mid-80s. There are no other pictures or magazine articles before that date, so we concluded that you must be the originator.”

In short, I found myself conveniently cast as the originator of Loose Socks—or so it seemed. They were going to craft a story and introduce me rather humorously on their nationally broadcast TV show.

“It can’t be. That would be too awkward.”

“Actually, we’ve already shot some testimonial video segments with other friends. Could we at least interview you over the phone?”

It was clear to me that this was her job—a mission handed to her, someone I’ve always admired for her seriousness and dedication. I wanted to be helpful, but I had just started a new job and was busy adjusting myself to the new environment. To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled at all about being cast as the originator of something as unimpressive as Loose Socks, especially based on such dubious evidence.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it,” I said, declining the request and hanging up the phone.

My alma mater is a co-ed school, where students from kindergarten through graduate school students share a campus. It was unique that during the six years of middle and high school, boys had school uniforms as a remnant of the past, while girls had the freedom to wear almost anything they liked. Especially in high school, many girls enjoyed the latest trends and dressed stylishly, but the school had one strict rule: socks had to be white. If you wore red socks or any colored socks, you would immediately be reprimanded by the teachers and glared at by the mean senior students. Some girls dared to wear colored socks despite these consequences, but I liked white socks.

Most of the girls in my school wore socks with tightly knitted ribs that hugged their calves and ankles. Those socks were tight around the ankles, leaving marks, but they had a tendency to slide down. I found that absolutely irritating and just plain ugly. Some girls even carried a stick-shaped sock glue called “Sock Touch” to prevent their socks from slipping down, but I found this glue that you smear directly on the skin so appalling it gave me goosebumps. So, I bought socks with wider ribs from my favorite import shop and wore them slightly loose so they wouldn’t cling tightly to my legs. For some reason, I thought they looked better when worn intentionally loose with a bit of slack.

Yes, my socks were indeed different from other girls’ socks. My memories started to slowly come back to me after I hung up the phone.

At my new job, we often ordered in or got takeout for lunch and ate together. The conference room during lunchtime was lively, fun, and noisy, filled with gossip and chatter.

Half of my colleagues were Japanese, while the other half were from the U.S., Canada, the U.K., and other countries. The president was half Japanese and half American. After hearing the story I shared with my colleagues during lunch, he approached me, speaking in his ever-so-fluent Japanese, with a hint of discontent. “Yuki, I heard you’re the originator of Loose Socks? Why did you turn down the interview?”

Later on, the head of the company’s Los Angeles branch called me. “I heard you are the inventor of those famous socks! We should trademark them with your face on the package. We will make a fortune!” He was already planning to become my business partner.

My friends and family had their own comments: “You should have totally done it. Not everyone gets to be called the originator of something,” “So you are the boss of all the ko-gals?” and “You, the root of all evil! Ugh.”

The other day, I came across a current online article with the headline, “The Return of Loose Socks,” and I could hardly believe my eyes. As it turns out, “Heisei Retro” is trending in this Reiwa era, reintroducing old styles to a new generation—something I can’t quite understand.

If I were to tell a high school girl that I might be the originator of Loose Socks, she’d likely snicker at me. And just the thought of it makes me chuckle. It feels just fine.