Geta Shoes in Ireland: What They Are and Why Irish Women Are Wearing Them

When you hear geta, a traditional Japanese wooden sandal with elevated soles and fabric thongs. Also known as wooden clogs, it’s not something you’d expect to see on Dublin streets. But more Irish women are slipping into them—not for tourism photos, but because they work.

Geta, a type of elevated footwear designed to keep feet dry above wet ground, solves a problem Irish footwear has struggled with for centuries: damp pavements, muddy paths, and rainy sidewalks. Unlike flat sandals or slippery loafers, geta lift your feet clear of puddles, mud, and melting snow. Their raised structure isn’t just cultural—it’s practical. And in a country where you can walk from a pub to a hiking trail in under an hour, that matters.

They’re not just about function. Japanese footwear, a category including geta, zori, and tabi, known for minimalist design and natural materials, fits quietly into Ireland’s growing love for slow fashion and handmade goods. You won’t find mass-produced geta in Penneys. But you’ll find them in small Dublin boutiques, Cork craft fairs, and online shops run by Irish makers who import them from artisans in Kyoto and Osaka. These aren’t costume pieces. They’re worn with jeans, wool skirts, and even raincoats—because they don’t break when it rains.

Why now? Because Irish women are done with shoes that hurt, slip, or rot. They’ve tried orthopedic boots, waterproof sneakers, and even rubber clogs. But geta? They’re light. They breathe. They last. And they don’t need breaking in. One woman in Galway told me she’s worn hers for three winters—cleaned with a damp cloth, oiled once a year, and still standing. That’s the kind of durability that speaks louder than any trend.

They’re not for everyone. If you’re walking all day on cobblestones, you’ll want cushioning. But for short errands, garden visits, or walking to the bus stop in April drizzle, geta outperform most Irish footwear. And they’re not just for older women. Students in Trinity College, baristas in Limerick, and artists in Doolin are wearing them—paired with socks, or barefoot, depending on the day.

What ties all these stories together? A quiet shift away from flashy brands and toward things that last, fit, and feel right. Geta aren’t Irish. But they’re becoming part of Irish life—not because they’re exotic, but because they solve real problems. And that’s the kind of thing that sticks.

Below, you’ll find real stories from Irish women who swapped their wet-weather shoes for geta. Some found them online. Others bought them on a trip to Japan. A few even had them made locally. Each one tells you why they keep coming back to these simple wooden sandals—and what they learned about comfort, culture, and climate along the way.