Sneakers Freakers

From Time:

By 9:35 on a recent Friday night, Dominique Thomas had been camped outside the Niketown store in South Miami for two full days. Thomas, who goes by the street name DK the Line Pimp, had flown in from Denver and was first in line to buy the $100 Cowboy Air Max 180s, which were scheduled to go on sale at 10 that night. Just 140 pairs of these limited-edition sneakers–a hunter green, lizard-skin design with a light pink Swoosh–were manufactured, and they would be sold only at the Miami store and only that night. As a snaking line of mostly young men waited for the doors to open, Thomas, 21, reflected on how much getting the shoes meant to him. “Shoes run my life,” he said. “Without shoes, I don’t exist.”
Once part of a secretive urban subculture that began in New York City in the 1970s, sneaker freaks like Thomas have come out of the closet, rising up not only across the U.S. but also around the rest of the globe, from Berlin to Tokyo. While many are driven by nostalgia for the classic Adidas or Pumas they wore as a kid, others amass the shoes not to wear but to save and admire like a stamp or baseball-card collection. “It’s the thrill of the chase,” says Carra Crehan, 26, who works at a New York City sneaker boutique called Laces and says she has 200 pairs of sneakers–all insured–that she stores on racks in her kitchen and living room.



About David Burn

I wrote my first ad for a political candidate when I was 17 years old. She won her race and I felt the seductive power of advertising for the first time. Today—after working for seven agencies in five states—I am head of brand strategy and creative at Bonehook in Portland, Oregon.