Walk a mile in my moccasins, er, Crocs

My good friend Kym introduced me to Crocs several years ago, touting the footwear as the most comfy shoes ever.

Kym was a persuasive evangelist but the product didn't get me to heaven. My friend, who went to college in Wisconsin, looked as if she was sporting a pair of yellow cheeses, one on each foot.

Then, praise be, my husband and I visited Quebec, the most romantic of North American cities, and discovered the incredibly pragmatic Croc store on lovely Rue Saint-Jean. The store was packed, the exchange rate is horrendous, but

that didn't stop me (and scores of other shoppers) from cramming into the shop and scooping up Crocs.

That's because Quebec is a cradle for Crocs. Yes, some of the products are from China, but that is only because the locals can't keep up with demand for the footwear.

I walked away with bronze Crocs in what I hope is a fashionable Mary Jane style. My husband was won over to Crocs, as well. His Crocs are the synthetic equivalent of a Dutch Boy's clogs. He likes 'em big time.

An added bonus: I zipped through security at the airport in my Crocs. No metal to set off alarms.

Plus, Kym was right. They are super comfy!