I wore gardening clogs everyday for a month and this is what I learned.
Consider this a review on the Gardana Clog by Plasticana
A little over a month ago, I uploaded a post about things I think my wife should wear. It was inspired by Mariano, who was inspired by another Substack, Kind of Cool.
In the post, I discussed a myriad of garments that I think would complement my wife’s wardrobe, not change it. I rattled off a series of options, but my favourite of the bunch was the Gardana Clog by Plasticana. I was always a fan of the hemp plastic clog, but the truth was, I never pulled the trigger on them because there were always other footwear (most likely sneaker) options that I opted for first.
Now, being the good husband that I am, I reflected on my own words and copped… for myself (hehe). Sorry Sophie, but tbf you laughed at them when you saw them on my feet for the first time.
I’m going to share a little excerpt from my previous post to discuss where the Gardana clog sits in today’s zeitgeist.
When looking at the innovation adoption lifecycle, some could argue the Gardana could be in the late majority. I get it—I remember when General Mohawk Store first stocked them, back when they still had that IYKYK-ness to them. But here in Australia, they’re not even on the radar. I haven’t seen a single pair in the wild, and with only two stockists nationwide, we’re still sitting firmly in the early adopter stage.
Look, I’m not pretending I discovered the Gardana clog. By the time I copped, the Brooklyn gentrifiers had already been there, done that and moved on. It was one of those niche product-based trends1 that blew up — big enough to sell out at every boutique, but not big enough to hit the unwashed masses. Eileen Cartter even wrote about it for GQ nearly a year ago!
But honestly? I wasn’t late — just patient.
Anyways, enough pretentious self-glazing. Let’s talk about what’s really important, how these wear in real life!
When I say I’ve worn these every opportunity I can, I mean that in the most literal sense.
I have worn them to Sunday markets with the family;
I’ve worn them to brunch with the homie who also copped a pair;
I’ve worn them in professional settings, and I’m yet to be reprimanded (my workplace has a… strict dress code2);
Now, I will admit that it does seem a little self-important-in-a-writer-way to wear a silly little clog every day and say it taught me something. But the truth is, wearing the same silly little clogs had consequences — good and bad.
1. Chameleon of footwear
I love that while it is a gardening clog—the bottom feeder of formality— its silhouette is reminiscent of something of a more… refined nature. The clog’s silhouette holds a similar shape to that of a loafer, meaning it can go incognito mode when the situation arises.
Going to work? Chuck on the clogs.
Walking the dog? Chuck on the clogs.
Pub crawl? Chuck on the clogs.
Grandparents funeral? Chuck on the clogs (especially since they also come in a dark green and black, so you can blend in better).
Look, I know they aren’t really for all contexts, but I’ve successfully worn them for parent-teacher interview night as well as late-night grocery runs, and somehow no one batted an eye. Is it the shape? Is it the person modelling them (yeah-nah)? Maybe I’m just ignorantly confident to the point my brain is lying to me. Either way, they’re the first shoe that comes to mind when building a fit.
2. These are not comfortable
Due to the squishy nature of the clog, you have the privilege of feeling every surface underneath your feet. You feel the cracks on the asphalt, paver joints, and tree roots reaching the surface. Everything. This legitmately sucks. It’s not fun and definitely ruins the experience of wearing this funky little shoe.
But you can’t be too upset about this because, well… you are wearing a squishy gardening clog. I should add that the shoes become instantly more comfortable when you add insoles, as they initially don’t come with them.
3. Harder to style
I don’t know what it is, but I’ve found these somewhat hard to style. It’s difficult to articulate, but there’s something about the positioning of the foothole that makes cropped pants look a little silly and well… most of my pants are cropped. But also, pants with a longer length where the pants break cover the opening of the clog also look weird… idk how to explain. I’ll share some photos below to help compare. There’s little room for error (I’m talking millimetres here, people!).
The best I’ve found is the middle ground—longer than my normal length, shorter than a standard length. It’s super particular, and I only have one pair of pants that does it best.
I’m worried that my style is permanently changing because of this. For years, I’ve always opted for a decent crop in my pants, but now with these, I’ve enjoyed a slightly longer inseam… I hope it’s garment-specific and not a permanent belief for the sake of my wardrobe!
4. People don’t actually care about them
Now hear me out.
When I say people don’t care about them, I mean it’s not on the civilian’s radar. It’s not one of those garments that draws attention and provoke knee-jerk reactions from the unwashed masses… and to be honest, I kinda like that.
A long time ago, I wrote about people who feel weirdly entitled to share their unfiltered opinions about what you’re wearing because you’re the fashionbro. I was expecting to be absolutely torched for these, which is semi-ironic because, as the Chinese proverb says, the one who wears Crocs, yap the loudest—but the reality is, I have not been. I’m flying under the radar with these bad boys!
And what’s weirder than unsolicited negative comments I get on my outfits, are the surprising number of compliments I’ve got for these joints, too!
5. WARNING: Stinky foot inbound!!!
Alright, I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but it needs to be addressed.
These clogs are made from hemp plastic, AND they’re fully enclosed — which means your feet sweat. Like, really sweat. I’m talking “toes pruned after the swimming pool” level sweat. If you’re a sweaty mf like me, proceed with caution.
Keeping it a buck with y’all: after wearing them all day, I started getting that ominous “uh-oh, is this foot funguscore?” feeling. DISCLAIMER: I acted fast, and it didn’t become a thing — just some brief itchiness. I swapped my socks, moisturised, and aired my feet. All good now.
(I genuinely don’t think there’s a way to talk about this without showing my whole ass. But hey, no lasting damage — just a lesson learned.)
So there you have it. The things I learned when wearing the same pair of gardening clogs for a month. Did I think way too hard about a pair of plastic clogs? Yes. Was it enlightening? Also yes.
I wrote about product-based trends in the early days of Thread Space
I’ve received a handful of emails about certain garments cause I dress too fire for the workplace