Crocs

I sat today on my lunch break thinking – “What actually makes good design?”

I work in digital product design, where a lot of the conversation revolves around helping customers achieve goals or complete jobs they need to do. But is design really just about solving problems?

Take shoes, for example.

The job of walking around my house isn’t solved by shoes. I could walk barefoot. Shoes simply make it easier, safer, and more comfortable. But they also do something else.

The style and shape of a shoe affects my willingness to walk, and how I feel while doing it.

Different shoes extend my capability in different ways. Extra grip allows me to walk — or run — in ways I couldn’t comfortably barefoot. Walking up my steep driveway in shoes feels reassuring, especially after it’s rained.

That feeling matters.

Good design isn’t just about helping someone complete a goal. It’s also about how it helps them achieve it. The feeling it creates. The confidence it gives. The behaviours it encourages.

Which brings me to Crocs.

For most of my twenties and early thirties, I strongly disliked them. “Hate” is probably too strong a word, but I genuinely couldn’t understand them. They looked… lame.

And yet, Crocs became a global success. I was confused. What were people seeing that I couldn’t?

Part of it feels obvious to me now.

They’re unbelievably comfortable. Lightweight, practical, easy to slip on and off. The heel strap flips back to become a fitted shoe, or forward to become more like a sandal. They’re waterproof, quick to dry, and perfect for beaches, boats, streams, or just walking outside after rain.

If you value pure function over form, Crocs make immediate sense.

But I think something more interesting happened culturally.

Crocs were initially rejected because they violated conventional ideas of taste. They openly prioritised comfort and practicality over looking cool. People like me mocked them for it.

Then slowly — almost ironically at first — that honesty became part of the appeal.

The form itself became fashionable.

What makes Crocs interesting to me now is not just that my taste changed, but that my understanding of design changed with it.

When I was younger, I judged design mostly by appearance. Now I think more about utility, experience, and the feeling an object creates over time.

And Crocs do something surprisingly well.

The shoe doesn’t advertise how good it feels to wear. If anything, it almost discourages you from trying it. Visually, it still kind of screams: don’t wear me in public.

But then you wear them.

And suddenly the experience completely exceeds the expectation.

I love design that quietly overdelivers like that. Design that becomes more impressive through repeated everyday use, rather than first impressions alone.

And for that, I give my humble pair of Crocs a Good Design Award.