I never wore jelly sandals as a kid. Unlike most of my classmates, I detested them because, even as a five-year-old, I could sense that the Puerto Rico heat and humidity were no match for the plasticky feel of jelly sandals. I could see them all lined up by the pool at summer camp, the sweat accumulated over a day’s worth of play left to dry, only to be drenched in chlorine-packed water after the swimming session was over. The appeal was lost on me. Thanks to the constant touch of skin against rubber, they’d often generate blisters as well as a gel-like (and malodorous) dirt paste that would get caught in my classmate’s feet. I was happy with my Barbie-themed sneakers, thank you very much.