I spent the day yesterday driving through the early snow to Northfield, Vermont to get a deal on superior socks. Jessamyn from Metafilter told me that the Cabot factory sale is where all of Vermont gets its socks. She doesn’t seem like the type to be fucking with me, so I’ve a trip to the sock show in the back of my mind for months. This one really serves a dual purpose for me — I’m a sucker for weird niche events and comfortable feet.
November rolled around, and a little digging revealed a local blog post with the dates. Always up for an adventure, Mom agreed to make the 4 hour round trip with me. Yes, for socks. But these are world-class socks, people.
The drive was, for November in Northern New England, stunning. Snow-covered covered bridge, trees clumped with powder, etc.
When we reached Northfield, we were greeted with a banner spanning Main St. announcing the sale. It was big news.
The final turns in the GPS directions were totally unnecessary. The road was blocked with cars for about the final 1/4 mile of our drive. They had — I shit you not — a massive shuttle bus for the overflow parking. This looked more like a fair than a sock sale. The lengths New Englanders will travel for a deal on some nice wool socks is pretty amazing.
After waiting in several lines, first in the car, then in the warehouse, we ended up in a giant box maze that led us into a massive room filled with hundreds of people.They didn’t allow photos, so I only snapped one in the antechamber, which doesn’t do the place justice:
Rest assured: the bins were large, and the socks were flying. Unless you’ve been in a sock factory before, you’ve never seen so many socks. In Vermont fashion, folks were fairly genial. I only saw a few elbows thrown.