It is generally accepted that people must, can, and will express their individuality in any way left to them when the homogenizing effects of society get so oppressive that everyone starts to look, talk, and act alike. In Japanese high schools, girls will wear incredibly individual socks to stand apart; in the military, troops will get tattoos that proclaim their separateness and belonging at the same time; I even think that I have seen photos of Mussolini’s minions sneaking colored scarves under their brown shirts in an effort to distinguish themselves from all the other silly fascist types.

But what then, in a realm where clothing is disallowed? Are the citizenry left only with accoutrements and body art to differentiate one from another? What shall become the power tie, the Che Guevara t-shirt, or the designer suit when none of the above are part of the vestimentary lexicon?

I suppose haberdashery could substitute, but hats are already a muddled affectation that neither clearly asserts one’s politics and status nor submits to a well-defined system of classification because of the utter impracticality of them in a stout breeze. Indeed, having already considered and discarded bumbershoots, scarves, and tattooing as imminently impracticable because of climate and squeamishness, I am left only with footwear as a medium for self-expression in the nudist colony of my imagination (not to be confused with the people I like to imagine naked).

A young lady struts down the street, utterly naked except for footwear. The style in which her feet ride is a declaration to all; it is a statement of where she is going, what she is thinking, and whether or not she’ll take anyone home tonight. If she is totally unshod, she is merely out doing her shopping, going to work, or perhaps having coffee with a friend. If she has on her ostrich-skin Tony Lama boots, she is likely on her way to the bar to quaff a few pints with her boys (and girls, but, really, the hot chick "hangs out with the boys" and "has coffee with the girls"). If, on the other hand, this otherwise indecipherable lady has on her stilettos, she is sending the message that someone will buy her a martini or two before she decides what lucky guy she is taking home that night. That is when she is no longer "naked" but "nekked," 'cause one means you’re not wearing any clothes; the other means you’re not wearing any clothes and are up to no good.

So, what does this illustrious young pedestrian tell us about footwear in the nudist colony? The shoes in which one walks indicate what is on one’s mind. But what if one of the colonists chooses to always affect one type of shoe?

Some of our dear citizens may not wish to divulge their daily chores via spectators, oxford,s or slippers (bunny or otherwise) but would prefer to make their occupations, expectations, or ideologies known by wearing their Doc Martens, their Adidas, their belled jester-shoes, or their Go-Go boots at all times. What sort of shoes is Young Master Guevara wearing? Red Birkenstocks, of course. Is the schizophrenic Dutch artist wearing clogs, or is he shod in ragged house slippers? Shall we institute a national shoe for purposes of travel to other nudist colonies? Certainly, I shall hold court in my colony sporting a killer pair of patent red leather spike heels.