It’s early spring in Vermont, a time of year when the mountains still hold snow up high, and dirt roads are stubbornly transitioning from mud to gravel. In Randolph, the pavement is wet from an afternoon shower. GPS and smart phone are the modern ways to find the compact and unassuming industrial building at the end of Pearl Street. But once inside, it feels there might not be cell service, let alone use for an app.
A hand-made bell announces anyone who walks in the front door. In the break room, coffee mugs hang alongside bolt-cutters, shears and a wall-mounted pencil sharpener. Weathered plaster and lathe are the primary wall covering.
Come in take a look around and turn up the sound so you can hear the machines that have been in use for longer than I have been alive.


Dare Tough Socks