CLOGGING THROUGH LIFE
I’m a clog wearer. Maybe that’s because I’m of Scandinavian and Dutch heritage or because my mother’s two best friends wore clogs. Mrs. Overland and Mrs. Wilkinson were like second mothers to me when I was a child. Mrs. Overland wore navy blue clogs. I loved the sound they made as she clip clopped across her kitchen floor. Mrs. Wilkinson, always a fashionista, wore bright red “leaf punch” Swedish clogs. I started wearing clogs in the 1970’s when the Swedish manufacturers made them popular and the singing group ABBA was seen wearing their signature “MIA ABBA Clog.” But the Dutch predated ABBA by a few hundred years, forming a clog guild or “klompenmakersgilde” in 1750.
The clog, or “klompen,” a shoe crafted from wood, originated in 13th century Europe. Farmers, fisherman, laborers and peasants wore them because they were humble and easy to make from a single block of wood. The Europeans and especially the Dutch, don’t have the corner market on wooden shoes. Since 300 BC, the Japanese have worn the traditional “geta,” a flat wooden sandal with two “teeth” attached to the base to keep the wearer’s feet off the ground when it’s raining. The Spanish, in the Pyrenees, had their own special wooden shoe, called “albarca.” They have three tall rounded pegs, a pointed toe, and intricate designs carved in the wood. Ranchers and villagers traditionally wore them as they worked in the field and with farm animals. The Romans were the first to add leather tops to wooden clogs. The leather and wood style continued with Europeans in the 16th century and in the 18th century, British miners and weavers wore them. Finally, the Swedish perfected leather and wooden clogs and created the beautiful styles we appreciate today.
I remember my first pair of brown leather clogs in 7th grade. I grew up frugally in the 1970’s with a shop teacher dad who could repair anything, so that one pair lasted for years. Dad sanded and stained the wood when they got beat up. He polished and waxed the leather, and even resoled my clogs on occasion.
While some of you enjoy your Crocs and Birkenstocks, I love my Dansko clogs. I could sit an waste and hour just scrolling through clog fashions. I’ve ordered many for my daughter who is a nurse. She, in turn, has bought me several for my birthdays, including a bright purple pair that I try to wear, but have a hard time matching to outfits! Another of my favorites are a pair from Tessa Clogs, a Colorado company that hand paints designs on the leather.
When I taught at Roberts Elementary School, a teacher friend would say, “Lauri, I always know it’s you headed down the hall like a pony, clippity clopping in your clogs.” I do like the sound of clogs. In fact, I really wished I had the chance to become a “clogger” growing up rather than wasting my time in ballet. I think the dance form would have been right up my alley, but it wasn’t a thing in my neck of the woods.
The Netherlands have a traditional dance style called the “klompendans” or clog dance. In America, clogging found a foothold in the Appalachian mountains as immigrants settled in the area. The Scottish, Irish, and English mingled their native jigs and reels combined with foot-tapping styles already present. African traditions introduced syncopated downbeats which heavily influenced modern flatfooting and Native American Cherokee added distinct toe-heel combinations. Tap dancing evolved out of a fusion of all of these influences. Before the 1900s, tap dancers actually hammered nails and pennies to the bottom of their shoes to create that wonderful tap sound.
The study of clogs is really a mini lesson on the melting pot of immigration and the fusion of cultural influences. By the way, fashion designers are saying that clogs are trending this summer. “I have a birthday coming up next month and I’ve got my eye on a pair of vintage MIA ABBA clogs! Hint hint…
Published in The Facts, Brazos Living column on July 22, 2026
