01 The trouble with editing Monocle is that whatever topic you cover there will be readers who know far more about it than you do. If we write about wind farms, real farms, Gio Ponti or how to make the perfect baumkuchen, it’s likely that an email will arrive with some gem of additional information (or an even better baumkuchen recipe). That’s just who you are. But my mention in last week’s column of my concertina-sock affliction – my socks, I explained, have a tendency to take on a saggy life of their own when matched with my new loafers – revealed that we could muster a UN-style hosiery rescue mission from among our readers’ ranks.In a very welcome drop of considered correspondence, it has been made clear to me that, if I want my life to improve, I should only ever buy socks that rise at least above the calf or, better still, extend beyond the knee. Indeed, the sock lengths that some people have suggested have made me wonder whether it might be simpler to go all out and invest in an Elizabethan doublet and hose – and pop in a codpiece for good measure.So, in the style of a Saturday-morning DJ, I want to do a few shoutouts before we move on. Cheers to Theron for recommending long Boardroom Socks that are knitted in the US; to Craig, who faced the same loafer issue as me, found salvation in Pantherella and recommends that I go knee-length with some mid-calf ones for heatwaves; to Matthew, who stays true to Bombas (knee-high all of the time); to John, who is a New & Lingwood kind of guy (and added that he hates what he calls “the Ugly Hairy Gap, UHG, that is on display between sock top and trouser on the careless”); and, finally, to Richard, who only wears the long socks of Mes Chaussettes Rouges in Paris. Orders have been placed. I will report back.