I have a very stylish friend who all but lived in No. 6 clogs, clog boots, or clog sandals, depending on the season, but when this article came out in the Times a while back citing No. 6 clogs as a crucial component of the Brooklyn mom uniform, she swore off them for good. She is, in fact, a Brooklyn mom, and did not want to be viewed as one who engaged in such easy sartorial cliches. Being neither a Brooklyn-dweller nor a mom myself, I didn’t take the Times assessment too personally, but I did take note, and wondered: had No. 6 clogs become too ubiquitous? I decided to keep wearing the ones I had—they comprise too huge a portion of my shoe wardrobe not to—but not to buy any new ones. And then this afternoon I was out running errands—dropping off dry cleaning, bringing busted-up footwear to the excellent Cowboy Boot Hospital—when I realized I was in such close proximity to the No. 6 store that I might as well drop by—just to look at the clothes, mind you. And while I did admire this Lauren Manoogian coat and so many sweaters, eventually I made it to the back of the store where the clogs live, and discovered these little wonders, which are now officially my first and only pair of purple shoes. Yes, just when I think I’m out, No. 6 pulls me back in. What brand/product/article of clothing does that for you?