At last year’s San Japan, I already had inklings of a series called… something I couldn’t pronounce yet. All I knew was the name ‘Sebastian’ and my friend thought he was kind of dull. I learned about Kuroshitsuji through cosplay at San Japan. So I thought Ciel was an eighteen year-old stereotypical aristocratic brat, Sebastian was either a minor character or I just couldn’t tell him apart from all the other characters who wear black in anime, and Grell was a lovely name for a bright-eyed girl with a chainsaw. I also thought it was a fighting game produced by Square Enix (I still think it would have been cool if Ciel had a sword in his cane, which was what I naturally assumed).
I learned otherwise, although the impression that Grell was a lady lasted for about ten minutes longer than it should have for a serious Final Fantasy IX fan. And for a little while I wanted to cosplay Ciel. But that’s not the important part of this story.
The important part is that I never cosplayed Ciel and as a result, I have been thinking about socks way too much (and you know Alois hasn’t helped matters). Socks haven’t been a genuine consideration in my wardrobe since I grew out of kitty-face socks when I was four. Now, I’ve devoted a sizable portion of my clothes-related thoughts to amassing a respectable sock collection.
Not cutesy socks. Mid-calf herringbone socks that I can wear with my oxfords (oh wait, I can blame those on Kuroshitsuji too, can’t I?), scrunchy charcoal ones that can peek over my equally-hypothetical houndstooth rain boots, since I didn’t like that pattern all of my life until…
I saw it on Kuroshitsuji. I think… I’m scared.