




Dangerously Devilish Crew Sock Pack | 3 Designs
Regular price $45.00 Sale price $32.99Some socks are rebellious. These? Positively dangerous. The Dangerously Devilish Crew Sock Pack brings together three infernal designs, ready to fuel your mischief, challenge conventions, and add some unapologetic chaos to your wardrobe.
Vintage Devil – Inspired by 1950s magic posters, these tiny devils whisper secrets, stir up trouble, and embody the spirit of arcane trickery. Don your devil socks, laugh at your enemies, and live life with unholy enthusiasm.
The Devil Tarot – We all have inner demons, but understanding them is the key to breaking free. Wear these when facing your fears, forgiving yourself, or channeling pure metal-show energy—because the Devil is nothing if not versatile.
Heresy – According to Dante’s Inferno, heretics belong in the Sixth Circle of Hell. But honestly? Some norms need to be broken. Featuring a classic demon perched above ghostly skulls, these socks rally the army of heretics against stagnant thinking, much like we’ve waged war on obnoxious toe seams. It had to be done.
Crafted from a breathable blend of combed cotton, nylon, and spandex, these socks offer durability, stretch, and comfort—because even revolutionaries need cozy feet.
Slip them on and embrace the delightfully devilish energy.
Death on a Pale Horse Crew Socks
Regular price $15.00Death takes many forms, but this one? Absolutely legendary. The Death on a Pale Horse Crew Socks bring the ultimate badass interpretation of the Grim Reaper—riding a skeletal, airborne steed, soaring through an ominous, lifeless expanse. Inspired by Gustave Doré’s The Vision of Death (1868), we’ve taken artistic liberties because, well… we’d rather not be haunted by Doré’s ghost.
Dark, foreboding, and undeniably stylish, these socks embody the spectacle of mortality with just the right touch of dramatic flair. Crafted from a breathable blend of combed cotton, nylon, and spandex, they provide durability, stretch, and comfort—because even spectral riders need solid footing.
Slip them on and ride headlong into the unknown. It’s what Death would want.