Is it really such filthy behavior to wear flip-flops in the city? Is it a sin to let my Lolita-chaste, buffed heels graze the festering pavement? Every time New York gets just a little bit hot, there’s another annoying conversation about whether it’s kosher or not to let our nubby little toes out in the open, whether they’re splayed on a rubbery pair of Havaianas flip-flops or a leather “thong” sandal by The Row.

Flip-flop critics say the act of open-toeing is sickening. No one wants to see a gangly, hunched phalanx wriggling like a bunch of circumcised hot dogs. Nor do they want to see a hirsute big toe thunking around. Ditto that enduring callous which even the green tea “special” spa package at the local pedi spot can’t help. Over the past few years, “showing toe” has become akin to freeing one’s nipple or butt crack. (Someone page Freud). Going naked below the ankle has become lewd and lascivious sartorial behavior—a phalangeal felony.

Yes, we can mock the prude naysayers who say they hate seeing feet, but the truth of the matter is there are a number of safety issues with wearing flip-flops. Just this morning, I chatted with a woman who told me her mother breaks a pinky toe every summer because the digit goes rogue, constantly slipping out from over the edge of her flip-flop. (Beauty is pain, and she keeps on wearing them.) I’m guilty too. A couple of years ago, my Russian OBGYN shook her finger at my flip-flops and pointed to my pregnant belly, telling me that “thozzze shoes” were a big no-no and that I could trip in them.

Manhattan foot guru Dr. Rock Positano, a podiatrist with whom I spoke years ago about “hot foot” when fogged-up PVC shoes were all the rage, also waxes poetic about the risk of walking in flip-flops, especially for long periods of time. Positano fields calls from clients on vacation in “Italy to the islands” who say it’s painful to walk after toddling about in flip-flops for endless hours. “People don’t realize that when you’re on a vacation, you’re going to basically quadruple your walking and your standing,” he says. “The foot and the ankle and the lower extremities are not accustomed to this.”

I did start to worry about my naked feet on a Brooklyn sidewalk recently. As I stomped to the subway in flip-flops from a beach gift shop, my toes came dangerously close to a puddle of mystery city slop. The thought of accidentally stepping into the Bubonic black hole did make me go ick.

Designer Emily Dawn Long, who describes herself as a Georgia girl with Cali roots, has a solution for New York muck. She simply goes home and gives her hooves a good wash. “I have a little brush that I scrub my feet with when I get home,” she says, pausing to add, “I am shocked at how dirty they get, actually.”

I love to wash my soles in the bathtub just as much as the next woman–and that is what I do before I tuck myself into my Vermont Country Store percale cotton sheets–but Dr. Positano had other thoughts. Even the tiniest of abrasions on the foot can act as an entry point for bacteria, he noted, recounting a freakish story about how one beautiful New York day, a woman patient of his walk through Central Park sans footwear. “She went barefoot, and she didn’t realize that she had a little opening or a little cut,” he said. “The next thing you know, she has this crazy infection that took like six to eight weeks to get rid of. I had to send her to an infectious disease person.”

The verdict: Visually, there’s nothing offensive about wearing flip-flops, but standing in them for a zillion hours might be offensive to your health. You can hear more of my summer fashion pronouncements in today’s episode of Vogue’s Run-Through podcast. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to the next bright Sunday morning when I can slip into my favorite pair of Havianas and have myself a little stroll.