Expensive Salfords are a hazardous pursuit in our house. If I’m not careful, the sock fairy comes and lays elaborate traps for my posh socks. He (or she) hides them down radiators, in the corner of rooms and in places they couldn’t have possibly got to without a helping hand. This all results in a bigger collection of orphans than Oliver!
To remedy this I have two options. Either I go down the Primarni route and hope nobody notices, or I make sure my sock game be tight. I go with the latter every time. As a result, all my nice socks get the same sort of treatment rich old women lavish on their shit little dogs. I wash them carefully, I have a nice little basket for them, and nobody else is allowed near them or they’ll get their hands bitten off.
Posh socks are a good option for when you’ve not got loads of cash to lay out but you need a little boost to your washing pile. That’s my excuse for salivating over this lot from Garbstore anyway. I may well spend most of the next 4-5 months sockless, but that won’t stop me.
The sock fairy might though.