The Sunday Digest 042

We're shipping up to Boston (the Birkenstock kind).

Jan 22, 2023

Welcome to The Sunday Digest — a free Sunday newsletter featuring long (and some short) reads, original columns, things I’ve saved over the last week, relaxing playlists, episodes releases, exclusive product drops, and more. Yes, you can reply to this email. I’d love to hear from you. Or, if podcasts are more your speed on Sundays, we’ve got that too.

The Inevitability of the Zeitgeist: Birkenstock Bostons

For the longest time, I actually thought I was Dutch. Given my last name, it only seemed reasonable. deFries. William of Friesland. Because as everyone obviously knows, Friesland is historically and traditionally known as Frisia (named after the Frisians) and is a province of the Netherlands located in the country's northern-most part. Most of that is a quote from Wikipedia.

Growing up, I knew two things about the Dutch. The first was that they wore orange uniforms in the World Cup. The second was that they all dressed like this:

It was inevitable: I’d eventually acquire my own pair of clogs so I could be as Dutch as my little Dutch heart desired. And while that fact did become somewhat-true over the last week after my Birkenstock Bostons were delivered in the mail, there was something that fell flat about the delivery. And I don’t think it had anything to do with my heritage or the clogs themselves.

A few weeks ago, I said something to my wife.

I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me to get them anymore. They’ve been sold out for a while and I feel like by the time I get them, I’ll be over them.

But much like it goes with any purchase that inventory (or lack thereof) is prohibiting you from making, I was lying to her — and to myself. I wanted these clogs, and I wanted them badly.

The first time I put them on, however, I found myself wondering if the reason I wanted them so badly was because I couldn’t get them for so long. The Kanye West/Yeezy model, but without the eventual racism and bad sizing.

There’s been a running joke lately about a denim overshirt I recently acquired from AYR. Had I known that the phrase “I’m giving pottery” would’ve stuck so much after I first said it, I probably wouldn’t have said it at all. Honestly, though, I’m not morally opposed to dressing like I have free access to a kiln and clay-stained carpenter pants. For someone to think I’m a full-time ceramicist? Who? Me? Why how flattering!

But that couldn’t happen without one thing: the acquisition of a pair of Bostons.

I’d say this is an “about the journey, not the destination” situation but even that’s a lie. Fortunately for me (and my credit card), after a full day in the office wearing them, it became official. I had fallen in love and my buyer’s remorse had washed away like the hypothetical clay off my hypothetical hands in my hypothetical pottery studio.

Am I looking forward to the eventual argument I have with my wife over who gets to where their clogs to the group dinner so we don’t match? Obviously not, but it’s better than looking at her outfit with jealousy — something I don’t do that much of, I promise.

The Sunday Haiku: 31 Days of Grey

O January,

Be thy dry, be thy damp,

It feels quite endless.

New Episode › The Ideal Sunday Dinner, Cathartic Walks, and The Dry January Meditation

How the simple act of taking a walk can change your perspective, my guest list for the ideal Sunday night dinner party, and a January for anyone in the throws of Dry January.