[a] deep dive into exclusive sneaker culture at sneakercon

Here’s when I knew I had a problem: Two weeks after graduating college, I found myself in a “quality” thrift store bartering for Gucci sneakers. The shop’s owner, a by-all-means fair lady, had purchased them in an estate sale from a “very rich” guy “looking to get rid of some stuff.” She had found the sneakers, along with some Channel heels, in some box of clothes the guy sold her. Apparently, these Gucci sneakers were his “casual wear” and he only “wore them around the house.” That’s why they were in such great condition.

She wanted $200 for them. I didn’t want to spend that much. I didn’t have a job yet, no real prospect of summer work, but my grandparents had given me $500 for graduation and told me to spend it on something nice. I knew the responsible act would be to walk away. Forget about the shoes. Proceed with my life. But those sneakers, as soon as I tried them on, filled that hole inside me. That one immediately following college graduation with no true life direction and encroaching self-doubt and closing a chapter of life where I finally felt content. So I proposed paying $100 and the store owner accepted.*

*That’s a lie. She predictably met me in the middle at $150 and I said yes. I knew my stepmom would (rightly) berate me for spending that money with my beleaguered financial future, so I lied and told her $100. She justly criticized me anyways. (She also said they were ugly, which is so obviously not true.) I guess all of this is to say, um, sorry Cathy? 

But walking out of that store, Gucci sneakers on, and feeling like a real American by solving my emotional problems buying material possessions, that’s the moment I accepted my sneaker addiction. It’s not even that serious, I’m no ‘sneakerhead.’ I just enjoy a nice pair of shoes that complements my outfit. Plus, reading about sneakers and all the colorways and hyped, exclusive releases and celebrities working on sneakers is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine.

So when my friend informed me there was entire convention focused on sneakers coming to Atlanta last weekend, I had to go.

I’m too embarrassed to admit how long I took choosing which shoes to wear for Sneakercon. To be fair, it’s an incredibly important decision. Everyone comes to these things donning their most prized pair of kicks. Maybe it’s a personal favorite or the kind instantly recognized and revered by other ‘heads. Because of the shady way I acquired my Gucci’s (aka I’m not sure how real they are and refuse to have them authenticated, even by Gucci’s own website), I overthought wearing them. I was petrified people might instantly identify them as fakes, shattering my own self-delusion. Instead, I wore my tried-and-true adidas Crazyquick’s because of their sentimental value and A$AP Rocky made a rap about them. Nobody could hate on that.

Once there, it took all of seven seconds to realize I was doing little more than blending in with my shoe selection. While waiting in line to withdraw some cash at the ATM, this baller showed me up.

That’s a toddler, hardcore stuntin’, wearing Jordan XI Low’s. Aka the ones Michael Jordan wore in Space Jam (different colorways, but still). He woudn’t even look my way, refusing to dignify my presence with so much of a glance. He carried himself like a mini-Biggie Smalls, begging me to check him. And I had no option but to look down and rightfully take it.

Anyways, when I saw that kid, I dropped the charade of looking cool and enjoyed myself. Which was smart, because once any of these kids or the many, many adults there start discussing sneakers, I realized how uncool everybody was. Everybody here knows way too much about sneakers. Since Sneakercon is a safe place where one can properly geek out and others not only accept them, but reciprocate just as enthusiastically, nobody holds back. About anything. And I do mean anything.

We’re not even in the actual event yet and it’s going down. That dude on the right asked to check out the shoes on a kid’s feet. And the kid, no questions asked, gave them to him! Then, dude on the right asked how much. This is a picture of their negotiation that followed. They couldn’t come to an agreement, but that kid was pretty close to selling the shoes off his feet like it was totally normal.

And it’s not even that preposterous because once inside the convention center, I spot this kid.

He’s not even wearing shoes! He’s either a) already sold them or b) so committed to this pop-up shoe store he’s made that he wants to display all of his merchandise. Seeing that and myriad of kids like him, setting up shop with their five pairs of shoes, made me fall in love with Sneakercon. The major vendors with hundreds of the coolest kicks available hold the main attraction, but they’re mad overpriced. So many of these small-timer kids don’t have money and approach each other with nothing but the shoes on their feet and a couple bucks in their back pocket. They’ll give up near anything for a fresh pair of shoes.

Walking around, it’s hard not to get overwhelmed (or step on one somebody’s shoes). Since I like sneakers, I’m basically OD’ing absorbing everything I can’t have. I limited myself to $140 (I learn from my mistakes in $10 increments) and an average pair of shoes here costs around $200. I knew if I wanted anything I had to buy secondh–ARE THOSE RED OCTOBERS SIGNED BY KANYE WEST??????

AND WAIT ARE THOSE THE NIKES FROM BACK TO THE FUTURE II?

RAF SIMONS STAN SMITHS????

STOP. THOSE CAN’T BE RICCARDO TISCI AIR FORCE ONE’S (although I’m not that big on the boot extension)

NO WAY THOSE ARE…wait what are these?

Okay, here I’m lost. I know they’re LeBrons and they seem important, but glass-encased important? I overheard a dude offer the vendor “5 for the Fruity Pebbles,” referring to these. He could’ve meant hundred or grand, but the owner adamantly refused. “Not for sale,” he kept repeating. Didn’t even entertain any offers. I was stunned. They’re dope shoes, but “Not for Sale” dope?

I looked them up and discovered why. They’re “Fruity Pebbles” LeBron IV’s and about as exclusive as they come. Initially, they were created specifically for LeBron James and his friends/family. Nike chose those colors and that name because Fruity Pebbles are LeBron’s favorite cereal. Here’s LeBron playing in them.

Only 100 pairs of these shoes were made. Acquiring them either resulted in a member of LeBron’s squad selling theirs or somebody at Nike auctioning the leftovers. Unfortunately, this is the dark spot of sneaker culture because Nike does this all the time. These are cool shoes. People want them. But to maintain Nike’s mystique, they create this faux-exclusivity for kids to fawn and obsess over. It keeps the hypebeasts hyping.

There’s a difference between this and limited releases. While some caps on this stuff is good to maintain market value, shit like this strikes me as unnecessary. Nike’s only doing it because they can and they know nobody can do anything to stop them. Or it’s because nobody else cares since the shoes are so cool. I don’t know. But the only way to acquire them is through connections and money. I think it irks me because it too closely reflects life where it matters more on who you know or getting lucky than anything else, and I prefer my sneaker hobby to be an escape from that type of stuff. Oh well.

I left without buying anything. The shoes I could afford and wanted weren’t in my size. I loved Sneakercon, though, and wish it wasn’t just once a year. I love that other people care more than I do about sneakers. I love the dorky community of it all. On my way out, feeling like I earned it, I even tried buying these kid’s shoes he was holding in his hand. He wanted too much, but I liked that I did that.

Can’t wait for next year. Maybe I’ll be wearing my first pair of Jordan’s.