The Ugg problem

Four years have passed since I first laid eyes on a pair of ‘Ugg’ brand boots in the fall of 2005. I was young and stupid. In those early days I thought, ‘Those look ridiculous, but they’re harmless. I mean, they’re just boots, right? They’re harmless even if they look like someone skinned a teddy bear.’ I kept muttering to myself, ‘By spring they’ll be gone ‘hellip; don’t make such a big deal out of this.’ So I let it go, and as blue jays took to song, Uggs slowly fazed themselves out, traded for something more revealing from Forever 21 or H&M. I was at peace.

Yet, as I returned for sophomore year, a sinking feeling permeated my soul. Something was off; I could feel it in the air. The demon was still present; the exorcism of time and rise of the Olsen Twins Walmart line hadn’t worked. And, as the temperature dropped below 60 degrees, and leaves began to shift to darker tones, I saw them. Paired with black tights or skinny jeans (I can’t remember exactly, it was dark’hellip; and I was scared) ‘hellip; they were back. It was an odd d’eacute;j’agrave; vu, as if it had snowed on Christmas one year, but then it magically happened again the next. No, wait, that’d be awesome. It was as if’hellip; the Christmas goose had made me violently ill from food poisoning one year, and then repeated its assault on my stomach’s fortitude the next.

Now, I’m passing blame onto the users, but in many ways we as a people must contextualize the problem. So many of our society’s shortcomings have led to the deep-rooted and widespread infection within our female college-aged population, many of whom suffer in the modern ghettos of suburbia. It is an addiction and must be treated as one. Like dope, crack or meth, those who value and consume Uggs are stricken by addictive personalities. A rush of dopamine floods the user’s brain, and their sense of judgment and reason falls to the ‘high.’ Many in the scientific community have dubbed it, ‘Going Koala.’ Treatment centers, counseling and a network of halfway houses would be a start, but so much more will need to be done.

Sociologically, the boots may speak to the cutthroat nature of the female college hierarchy. To wear Uggs seems to signify a rite of passage. Much how it is required of aspiring members of the ‘Bloods’ gang to cut the faces of innocent citizens, females must endure the personal humiliation of wearing Uggs on their feet, sometimes for hours at a time. There must be a deep, personal anguish that accompanies this act, but so far I have yet to witness it. The girls seem so happy, so calm.

Lost in time, is how I described our situation to outsiders. The rest of the world has moved on, but for more than three years, we have ignored the issue right in front of us. Uggs still rule our lives; they remain a symbol of power. It is as if we’re some under-developed nation that still utilizes slavery, clinging to the lifestyle it knows and loves, whether or not it is a crime against humanity.

So I must ask. Will it ever end? Will my children, and my children’s children, have to furrow their brows in a failed attempt to understand the reasoning behind the horrid footwear? Will they have to question why girls think they go with everything? Will they have to spend their nights tossing in a nightmarish frenzy spurred on by the image of giant teddy bears skinning themselves alive and speaking to me in forgotten Australian tongues? Will they?

God help me, I hope not. We as college students, and as people, must turn the mirror on ourselves and ask what we have let happen.