Instead, in the heart of Eastport, to the Jamaican-whatever strains of the fun, funky Tiki Barbarians, a crowd slowly gathered at the Eastport Boatyard Bar & Grill for the second annual observance of The Donning of the Socks.

 

Inside the popular Eastport boite, three clotheslines were strung in front of the bandstand, each line festooned with dozens of colorful socks. Patrons who didn't duck got swatted with a swinging piece of hosiery.

The fete celebrates the time of year when the temperature begins to plummet, and boaters must reluctantly and regretfully protect their ankles with socks. The next sock event will be in spring when the weather warms and socks are burned.

John Morgan, who is the minister of finance and foreign affairs for the semi-fictive Maritime Republic of Eastport, scurried by with a pair of socks in his hand. "I still got bare ankles, but I'm off to watch the debates. I'm a political junkie," he explained.

Dick Franyo, owner of the Boatyard, officiously announced: "The first Thursday after the Eastport tug of war is the official legislative end of the summer. Before that, you could be arrested for wearing socks and - gasp - sent to Annapolis."

"We call that offense a U.U.H. - Unsanctioned Use of Hosiery," said Mike Lange, keyboardist for the Tiki Barbarians.

"Fishnet stockings are OK all year 'round," Mr. Franyo said diplomatically. "They're a legal exception. You can use them for fishing. It's in the bylaws."

Mr. Lange credits his wife, Kelly, for coming up with the concept of Donning of the Socks.

"It's a logical progression," she said, shrugging. "You burn the socks on the day of the vernal equinox, the first day of spring. Then, when autumn comes, you gotta put 'em back on. What better time than after the tug?" she said, referring to Eastport's annual beer-soaked tug of war with arch-rival Annapolis. "Putting them on means summer is over."

"You just can't do it alone," her husband said urgently. "It's a community thing. It knits us together. Putting on socks after a long, long summer without socks is a reason for the community to come together. Sock burning started in 1978 in Eastport, now it's all over the place."

He even penned a song, "The Sock Donning Blues." It had its world premier Thursday night.

"Almost put my socks on this mornin'," he wailed. "I got cold feet! That kind of blues. Since the vernal equinox, I don't need hosiery. Since the vernal equinox, don't have no need for hosiery. But there's a chill in the air - the sock donning blues."

It sounds better than it reads.

Glancing up at the clotheslines, Mr. Franyo laughed. "There's no more socks left in my house. My kid can't go to school tomorrow!"

Looking around, nearly every patron wore long, ankle-concealing jeans or trousers. It was hard to tell who was still going without socks in the chilly, 48 degree night air, and who wore hosiery.

Mr. Franyo had his business socks on.

"I just came from a Chamber of Commerce meeting. These Cole-Haan slip-ons need socks. Just don't look right otherwise," he said holding up his leather loafers.

By 9 p.m., even elbows had no room in the bar. It was time for the Most Unusual Sock Contest. Joyce Bolton and Kelly Lange hoped their entry, "Sub-Aquatic Vegetation" would win.

They struggled to pull on their fishy fish net socks decorated with foam sea critters.

Nearby, David Wilde showed off his entry, the R-rated "Monkey Business." There was a clearly marked "Left Sock," a "Right Sock" and, ahem, an unfurled condom marked "Monkey Business."

Brett Culeton had socks sporting large, knitted dogs' heads. "They were a Christmas gift years ago," he said of the pug-ugly footwear.

Dana Travaglini quietly unpinned a pair of pumpkin toe socks from the clothesline and slipped into them.

After much mulling, Mr. Franyo and Mr. Holland, the event's judges, declared Pete Manuel the 5th place winner for his embroidered Snap-On Tools tube socks; Dana Travaglini got 4th place; Joyce Bolton and Kelly Lange came in 3rd; David Wilde was 2nd; and Brett Culeton's dogs barked into 1st place.

All six winners received Boatyard gift certificates. The rest of the contestants just put a sock in it.

As some patrons hot-footed it home, the Tiki Barbarians played on.

Wendi Winters is a freelance writer living a few miles away from Eastport on the Broadneck Peninsula.