I ADMIT I NEVER REALIZED I had a shoe fetish until now. The reason is, whenever I think of shoe-love I think of the woman who may own a dozen Manolo Blahniks, the girl who adores her Jimmy Choos, or the fashionista who always picks up a pair of carefully chosen Robert Clergeries while in Paris. I don’t think of sneakers.
But sneakers are what I get off on. I’m not a huge shoe freak along the lines of, say, Star Jones. I own a pair of Blahniks, two pairs of Dolce & Gabbanas, two Guccis, two pairs of Ferragamos, a pair of Luca Luca, a couple of shoes I bought at Mandee’s because it was an emergency. I have two pairs of Nordstrom shoes, an old pair of Prada boots and a pair of Anne Klein slingbacks. But I have eight pairs of sneakers-five of them Pumas. And not one was bought with exercise in mind. I’ve never blessed eyes with a Manolo Blahnik sample sale. What gets my toes wiggling is the thought of Pumas.
I have one particular pair of Pumas that never fail to elicit compliments. Men are drawn to them more than women, and the range of men is staggering. They’ve been admired by teenagers in butt-brushing jeans and by Boomers in corporate suits.
Just last month, passing through Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport, a tall dude in a white shirt, charcoal slacks with gray-flecked hair at his temples approached me. He smiled. “Where did you get those sneakers?” he said, as he eyed them-black patent with shiny, bold yellow stripes and slices of black neoprene. “They are so cool.”
Men’s obsession with sneakers has been well-documented. It has been nine years since the “man in the golden shoes,” Michael Johnson, got as much attention for his gold spikes as he did for his historic performance in the Atlanta Olympics.
As another Michael lifted Nike sneakers to icon status, he brought himself down in my eyes when he failed to speak out on labor abuses in Nike factories abroad. Despite this, I just bought my 5-year-old son a pair of Nikes (and an MJ DVD; he doesn’t know who Michael Jordan is) so you see, I’m not one to hold a grudge. But I haven’t found the pair of Nikes with the requisite fashion flair I demand.
The creators of “Sneaker Freaker: The Book,” released this month from Riverhead Books, would undoubtedly disagree with my summary. Lovingly compiled from pages of an Australian magazine of the same name dedicated to the culture of all sneakers throughout the world, they obsessively document all manner of Nike kicks, with accolades heaped upon Air Jordans.
Designer Narciso Rodriguez told me he owns more than 100 pairs of sneakers. Jay Z joined a long list of ballers and shot callers with sneakers named after them. Rapper 50 Cent has a hit with his G Unit line from Reebok.
But my interest in sneakers is not the new-in-the-box fanaticism of hip-hop lifestylers who’ve made G Unit a big deal. It doesn’t call for the dedication of the international sneaker connoisseur who scours the Internet at midnight looking for a limited-edition shoe, issued only in Japan.
The fashion colors of Puma delight me. I love that leaping cat and the aerodynamic stripes, the contrast of materials in some pairs. To me, Pumas are futuristic and modern.
I know I’m not alone. Women, particularly younger women, are increasingly interested in sneakers as a style statement.
In “Sneaker Freaker,” Lori Lobenstine, a self-described sneaker fiend, laments the male dominance of sneaker culture. Hitting back, she has established her own Web site, femalesneakerfiend.com. Serena Williams and sister Venus made everyone’s heads swivel with their court fashions. I loved when Serena-being the more outre of the sisters-donned baby-pink sneakers and later when she upped the ante with knee-high boots that morphed into sneakers. Two years ago, when her contract with Puma expired, she signed a multimillion-dollar deal with Nike. According to Associated Press reports, the deal was worth $40 million.
That’s a lot of sneakers. But so many more of us-women and men-wear sneakers these days. They’ve replaced penny loafers and Buster Browns as the shoes of choice for school kids. Picking up the lead from hip-hoppers, Brit fashionistas integrated “trainers”-as they call them-into their high-fashion and everyday wear.
Once upon a time, designing for the haute couture was the Holy Grail for any fashion designer. Now, it seems, top talents can’t wait to put their creative matter to work on soft-sole shoes. Jil Sander, Gucci, Yohji Yamomoto and Tommy Hilfiger are among those who’ve dived in. Even home maestro Philippe Starck has done sneakers. Next year, Puma introduces footwear by Alexander McQueen, known for his rigorous and highly stylized clothes.
Both Puma and Nike have customized sneaker programs, acknowledging that we’re all designers these days intent on bringing our personal touch to what we wear.
Counterintuitive as it seems, technology-which renders so much of daily life impersonal-has made personalization possible. Customized blogs, customized music, custom jeans and custom sneakers-all are the impersonal made personal.
But when it comes to my sneakers, though I adore the idea of custom, there’ll always be room for someone else to do the hard work of design. In this I share something in common with my Blahnik-loving sister. I don’t see her ever getting the opportunity to customize her next Blahnik purchase.
