Once people didn't even want to know how sausage was made. Now they not only make their own sausage, they also deign to wear it on their feet.

No, chorizo flip-flops do not yet exist. (Think of the dogs that would chase the saucy orange trail you'd leave behind.) We're writing today of socks designed to resemble charcuterie. Apparel-needy public, meet Meat Feet, a line of foot sleeves designed by San Francisco offal advocate and excellent chef Chris Cosentino. Remember, he's the dude who invented Gluttony Pants.

With plans to ship out the socks in August, Betabrand is selling pre-orders of Meat Feet in three-packs for $33 dollars a pop, which before shipping costs just $5 more than Cosentino's most opulent salumi platter at Incanto. In case you're wondering, the “styles” are prosciutto, sopressata and mortadella. If more come down the pipe, so to speak, we'd be into a headcheese.

There's much to say about all this. It's maybe a little weird to wear something that's designed to look like the insides of an animal on the outside of your body. Then again, people wear fur hats. Why not fake meat socks?

What this really is: a next level in the “foodie” (and yes, we're saying that pejoratively) fetishization of meat. An appreciation for meat has become an expression of identity. Being a “meat person” is like being rockabilly or punk in the most reductionist of senses. If you saw Fugazi and The Make-Up at the Brewery in 1995, you might have bought a bootlegged shirt you still wear to let people know who you are.

A “meat person” will buy a “Praise the Lard” tee and stroll around the farmers market wearing it and making eyes at anyone near the Rocky Canyon counter. That guy's going to wear shorts now just so you'll be able to see that, from ankle to calf, he's a dead ringer for swine.

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LA Weekly