Ugg Lemming Parade

Today my sister and I did some quick last minute shopping before Christmas and ended up walking around Santa Monica's 3rd Street Promenade, a unique blend of shops, restaurants, and boutiques settled along a four block stretch of the city and within sight of the Pacific Ocean. In addition to the stores on 3rd Street, walking down the street provides one with a unique opportunity of seeing a healthy collection of the most bizarre and self-absorbed people in the United States. Among my perennial favorites are the Psychic Cat, who for a simple donation can read your mind and your future. Thanks to the help of a translator who just happens to speak cat, Psychic Cat then communicates its amazing prediction to a breathless audience. Then there are the living statues- you know the ones, people who paint themselves up silver or white, throw on sunglasses, and then move to a new pose when someone throws some coins into their basket. How would you like to go on a date with one of those people? Their skin a silver pallor from not quite cleaning up all the way and wondering in the back of your mind if all that makeup is going to lead to cancer one day. And among the other goofy people, you have throngs of those that can't be seen outside of the home unless they have on their designer shirts, $500 shades, and Ugg boots. In many ways, I'd rather spend time with the Psychic Cat than this crowd.

It's been a little while since I was last in LA and this trip came at an opportune time to hang out with my sis and also make a quick trip down to Camp Pendleton where Sgt Hawes, one of my Marines from 4th LSB was graduating from Basic Reconnaissance Course- a lifelong dream of his and something that I am extremely proud of him for. Landing in LAX, I immediately remembered what LA means to me- lots and lots of plastic people who don't seem to know how to place Moscow on a map but definitely are in-tune with the latest and greatest on K-Fed & Britney's drama. Not everyone for sure- there are definitely plenty of people who I know who live in the greater LA area who are genuine, friendly and close friends and who would give their shirts of their backs for someone in need. But it doesn't take a great deal of effort to find someone who would gladly take your your friends shirt, then turn around and sell it along with their soul to see themselves on TV. That being said, I definitely don't mind the International Airport at all- the fashionista people watching there is among the best in the country. If I'm ever laid over at LAX or DFW thanks to weather or mechanical problems I'm never that upset. It's just so damn entertaining. But there is a downside and Thursday evening, walking through the secured area of the airport en route to the baggage carousel I couldn't believe my eyes. Waiting just past the bored TSA agent guarding the secured area exit was a mass of humanity on a Mumbai scale. It took 45 minutes to get my bag, and that was only after I fought my way back and forth between Carousel 1 where UA #976 was listed- then heard a woman on the overhead 20 minutes later announce that 976 bags were coming out on Carousel 3. After another 15 minutes a UA rep told me it was actually Carousel 1 and then again 10 minutes later I finally found it on 3. What a mess. Barbara was waiting to pick me up and asked if she should drive through again while I scared up my bag. I told her yes, but when I walked outside the snarl of traffic made it clear immediately that it was going to be a long, long time before she made it to where I was standing. And it did. Almost an hour later she pulled up through the maze of stopped buses, hotel shuttles, bitchy women and toughguy dudes who would randomly cut off others and then stop before some bored and frustrated traffic cop shooed them on. And there's word that the massive Airbus A380 superjumbo, capable of carrying over 800 people and recently unveiled by Singapore Airlines is soon to be introducing even more passengers into this mess. That'll be fun. Hope my bag isn't the last one out of the hold with those numbers.

So after spending time with Sgt Hawes yesterday and a good night sleep for the first time in many days, Barbara and I headed into town. The weather was nice, the sun was out for the first time in two weeks, and even the antiwar protesters were in a good mood. And then I saw them. Uggs everywhere! Per-capita, I think that one out of every four women in the greater Los Angeles basin are proud owners of Ugg boots and make up 85% of Ugg Corporation operating profits. And soooo glamorous! As clearly displayed from the picture at right, wearing Ugg boots make a person incredibly happy, stylish, and reflexively strike poses that remind one of constipation. Pink ones, brown ones, tan ones, blue ones. Tall tops, furry tops, low rider types, clog versions. They. Are. Everywhere. And, they look STUPID. Oh, hey everybody! I'm so cold down here in LA! I need to wear my Uggs to keep my toes from suffering frostbite. If the temperature drops below a balmy 65, it might snow here in Southern California, and I want to be ready. Sure, I'll still have on my tank top and mini skirt, but thankfully I'll be able to wade through the snow from where I parked my H2 to get back to my home safely in time to watch Entertainment Tonight without losing my feet.

Whatever. To me, it's just plain dumb. It's not like those of us that run around the mountains decide that it's fashionable to jump onto a crowded Tokyo subway during rush hour with an ice axe and crampons. Oh wait.. yeah we did do that. Ok, so maybe a shirtless Matthew McConaughey and Pam Anderson wandering around with them on make plenty of star-struck fans think that they have something in common if they just go out and buy a pair for themselves. But seriously. To me, they just look ridiculous. If we were wandering around a sub-zero Anchorage in the depths of a January winter hunting down a Wooly Mammoth and I saw some girl wearing them it probably wouldn't even make me blink. But when I'm wearing a polo and the woman wearing the Uggs has on barely enough clothes to recreate a napkin it just doesn't make sense to me. Aren't her feet sweating like crazy in there?

In LA, Ugg boots are so ingrained into the popular culture that toy stores even sell dolls wearing different versions. I swear that I'm not making that up. So what's up with Ugg wearing dolls? It's in the data, actually. Some dude with too much time on his hands did a quick evaluation of Uggs website, revealing that most hits are coming from 25-40 year old females that earn between $60 and $100k, reside in the New York and California areas (read: affluent urbanites) and was kind enough to have the foresight to know that I needed his research for this blog. If you cross reference his data with anecdotal articles dealing with footwear (I didn't) and web searches that reveal ad targeting strategies (I didn't care enough), from what other people tell me most Ugg purchasers are women and parents of Tween girls that have Uggs on their Christmas wish lists. And that's why Little Barbie is dressed out in Uggs and why if I have a girl one day she'll remain locked in her room until she's married if Uggs ever appear on her wish list.

Oh, Barbara found this pic taken in NYC thereby confirming transcontinental anti-Ugg sentiment while assisting with the detailed research that went into this blog. Seems to imply that I'm not alone in thinking that Uggs are ridiculous outside of the Arctic Circle.

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