Weddingbee Blog

To categorize the Old Navy $1 flip flop sale as one of the top ten craziest things I’ve ever done doesn’t make me sound like a Hip Chip. So let’s put it in the top 25 craziest things I’ve done, and certainly the number one of the craziest wedding things I’ve ever done. There. That certainly fits the bill.

Anyone who knows me knows better than to ask me to accompany them shopping. Outlets are out of the question (all those people! the shoving! the digging through racks!) and the very idea of the Running of the Brides fills me with impalpable dread. It’s not that I don’t like a bargain; nay, I love me a bargain! I rarely buy anything at full price! But my silly little constitution cannot handle the crowds, the lines, all those bodies packed into shops… I become stressed and cranky and my fight or flight mechanism kicks in, and soon I’m in the car and need to stop for an ice cream on the way home to placate myself.

My mom, the shopping maven, couldn’t be more disappointed.

Now that you know that I’m a shopping wimp, you can understand why the Old Navy flip flop sale (or, as I’ll refer to it herein, the Running of the Flip Flops) was totally uncharacteristic of me. But I’m a gal who always kicks off her heels the second cocktail hour is over, and dances barefoot all night long. Always.

And all those inspiration photos of flip flop baskets got me thinking… what a great addition to our kicky seaside wedding! A big ol’ basket of flippy floppies for the ladies, perhaps artfully arranged near the ladies’ room.

So I called the store to find out the maximum (five per customer, quoth they), and sent a sheepish email to my mom, sister, and wedding party ladies, asking them if they might accompany to purchase said flip flops, feeling a little like a jerk for asking them to sacrifice Saturday afternoon time. The dream team ended up being me, my mom, and one of my girls, JP. We arrived at our destination at noon; a reasonable hour, we thought.

And then—shock! Dismay! More shock! The place was packed to the gills, lines winding around and to the back of the store. People ran from display to display, pushing whole carriages full of flip flops! The air smelled of humans and rubber. The racks were sad and empty, picked over, discarded unwanted size 11s strewn about. Mannequin carcasses lay strewn about, limbs twisted and clothing torn.

Immediately, I wanted to leave (again, fight or flight) but we soldiered on into battle. We quickly realized the 5-per-customer limit was not being enforced, so on we went, grabbing whatever popular sizes we could in our arms. The only colors remaining were black, white, and brown, so we filled our arms with black and white, 30 pairs in all.

The next step is removing the tags and making new ones with a circle punch and a pretty stamp, and tying them together with some twine or raffia. I intended to hit a Michaels sale for said items, but when the time came I couldn’t rally, and I slept in instead. Totally worth it.

Has anyone else encountered the craziness of the flip-flop sale? Did you emerge bloody but unbowed? Any great ideas on how to arrange the flops?