the sole of a sneaker
By Jazmine Polk
THE SOLE OF A
It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday morning and Ronisha Bandy, a junior at the University of Kansas, is awake and sitting at her computer. Her feet are tapping in a nervous rhythm and little beads of sweat start to form on her forehead. She wants something, and she wants it bad. Bandy is on the Adidas website waiting for the highly sought after Yeezy Boosts sneakers to release so she can add them to her collection. She has her size selected and periodically refreshes the page so that she’ll be able to click “Add to Cart” immediately when they become available. The $200 shoe is a limited release and she does not know how many pairs are available worldwide; she just hopes that she is one of the lucky ones. An hour later, Bandy is still at attention, her eyes moving back and forth from the clock to her cart. Her stomach is growling but she can’t risk leaving her computer to get food and miss the release. Unlike most shoe releases, the Yeezys did not have a specific
time that they would drop, a tactic Adidas uses to prevent their site from crashing from too much traffic. Another 30 minutes slowly tick by, the clock hits 10:30, and Bandy sees that the Yeezys have officially dropped. She moves as fast as she can, clicking on her cart with lightning speed. “NOOO,” she stands up and yells in frustration. The page had frozen and refused to refresh. Despite the company’s release strategy, the Adidas website had crashed because too many people were trying to get the same shoe at one time, which meant Bandy and thousands of other shoe collectors would remain Yeezy-less. Her collection of 100 pairs of designer shoes would be incomplete in her eyes. Bandy’s scream of disappointment, followed by an hour of angry tweets about her broken heart, show that this was much more than just a shoe to her…this was life—the interesting, and at times emotional, life of a sneakerhead.
SNEAKERHEAD
Photography by Abby Liudahl
Sneaker collecting has been around since the ‘70s, when it originated from the hip-hop and street ball culture in New York. It has since grown into a worldwide billion dollar industry and culture, encompassing people of all ages, races and backgrounds. The term “sneakerhead” was coined to describe those people. Although no two sneakerheads are alike, there is one thing that they all have in common--a passion for sneakers. Bandy, a junior from Kansas City, says that sneakerheads are not made by the number of shoes they have; it is how knowledgeable they are about shoes. Each shoe, whether Michael Jordan’s Retro Jordans or Nike’s Foamposites, has its own history and story behind its style and colors (also referred to as “colorway”). For example, the Air Jordan Retro 12 “Flu Games” was the exact shoe Jordan wore during the NBA Finals game in 1997 when he had a temperature of nearly 100 degrees and dropped 38 points. According to Bandy, a true sneakerhead would need that
shoe in their collection because of that story. “When it comes to Jordans, I care about the history, especially when it is a shoe he played in,” Bandy says. However, being a sneakerhead is also much more than just knowing your history. The definition is found in the term itself; a mind that is always on sneakers. Some sneakerheads claim to have an addiction to buying shoes and I have met some that get every shoe release simply because it makes them feel good or it would feel weird not to get them. Although I would not call myself a sneakerhead, when I do get my hands on a new, dope pair of sneakers, I feel a rush of endorphins. I can’t wait to open the box, smell the beautiful new shoe scent and do my personal ritual of licking the bottom (don’t judge me). However, after the newness of the shoe wears off, I sometimes regret spending $200 of my scarce college student money, but it does not stop me from continuing to buy more.
Bruce Liese, professor of Clinical Psychology at the University of Kansas, says some people are searching for something special in their lives and certain resources affect people’s mindsets. “Some people engage in this kind of obsessive behavior for the immediate gratification without regard for long term consequences,” he says. “When areas of the brain that are pleasure centers are busy, the centers of the brain that involve judgement are not working.” There is also an element of competition in sneaker collecting. Everyone wants to be the person that gets the limited release or be the sneakerhead known for wearing a new pair of sneakers every day. Being a respected sneakerhead can boost your ego and popularity, especially if you have shoes that no one else has. You can imagine all the looks of envy that a person with the Yeezys gets from the Yeezy-less. Due to the limited number of pairs released, sneakerheads go through a lot to get their hands on the latest releases. Some shoes can be
purchased on the release day in stores like Finish Line, Champs and Footlocker or online with no hassle. However, a popular shoe with a heavy demand, like the Flu Games releasing in May 2016, require the raffle system. To participate in the raffle, you must go to the store during the week of the release, enter your name and shoe size in the raffle and pray that you get the call that your name was selected. Typically, in the larger stores, only 50 to 100 names are drawn for a general release and only 12 to 24 names could be drawn for a limited release, so whether or not you get the shoe is based on pure luck. Some earnest sneakerheads put their family members’ and friends’ names on multiple raffle tickets, just to give themselves a better chance at being picked. Others trust fate and have the “if it’s meant to be, it will be” mindset, reasoning that if they do not get the call then they weren’t supposed to have the shoe. But before stores across the country switched to the organized raffle system, many collectors had to endure mental and physical chal-
lenges just to get the latest released shoe. It was customary for collectors to camp outside of malls and stores to be first in line for a release. D’Amour Rimson, a junior from Kansas City, Missouri, says she once waited outside of Oak Park Mall for 24 hours for the release of the Air Jordan Olympic 7s in 2012. “They let us sit on the property for a while, then as it got dark people started to get rowdy so they made us wait in our cars until they opened the doors at 7a.m.,” Rimson says. “When they opened the doors, over 100 people ran across the street and into Finish Line. It was like a stampede.” My one experience with camping out for a shoe release was an exhausting but interesting adventure. One minute we were all laughing and swapping shoe stories like a happy family, but as soon as the security guard started turning the keys to the door our family became divided. I caught some jabs to the stomach, hurdled over fallen campers and Usain Bolt-ed to the store, on only three hours of car sleep, just to learn
that my size 10 had sold out. I limped out of the mall bruised and bag-less and never tried camping out again. Almost every Saturday morning, stampedes of shoe lovers were bursting into malls across the country and some shoe releases even ended in violence and death. In 2012, a man in New Jersey was stabbed to death during a brawl that broke out while he was in line for the Retro Jordan Concord’s release and just last year a teenager in Florida was killed after trying to rob a man of his just purchased Retro 11s. The increasing violence caused shoe stores to transition to the raffle drawing system and online purchasing, which has made it even more difficult for people to get a pair and, as Bandy experienced, it does not always end in success. However, the switch from camping to digital opened doors for a lucrative resale business. Some collectors make a living from buying shoes at the retail price and reselling them on eBay or on sneaker sites at a higher price. According to the Financial Times, “the sneaker resale market has reached an estimated $1 billion in sales.”
Marcus Andre, CEO of Markicks.com, an online store, says that he can make up to $2,000 a month re-selling shoes to people that were unlucky in their quest to get them or simply did not want to put in the effort to get the shoe. “I collected shoes for two years until I realized that I could also make a lot of money doing something I love,” Andre says. As many sneakerheads will quickly tell you, sneaker collecting is not cheap. These designer shoes can range from $170 to $500, depending on the shoe and can be resold online anywhere from $300 to $2,000. “I spend maybe $600 a month just on shoes, depending on what is releasing that month,” Bandy says. “My parents are always asking me ‘Why do you do this?’ and people think we are crazy or stupid for spending money, but it is what we love.” The steep price of each shoe makes the ability to budget one of the most important qualities of a sneakerhead. Some work multiple jobs and skip out on expensive meals or activities in order to keep their
collections up to date. Some even sell their old slightly worn pairs to get money to buy more. Young adults and college students are not the only ones saving every penny for shoes; young kids learn to budget for shoes by picking up extra chores or some resort to begging their parents. Young sneakerheads, like my 13-yearold brother, will trade a birthday full of gifts for just one nice pair of kicks. I was only in middle school when I had a deal with my parents that if I could get all A’s on my quarterly report card, I would be rewarded with a new pair of Jordans. With all of the money spent and the time and effort put into getting a specific shoe, most sneakerheads are meticulous in the care that they give their shoes. From how they store their shoes, clean their shoes and even walk in their shoes, the attention that sneakerheads give their shoes is similar to a doting new parent. (I’ve actually met a guy who kisses his shoes goodnight.) As most sneakerheads will attest, wear-
Students at KU can also go to Hashinger Hall for a quick shoe cleaning or a personal customization. Dairionn Billberry, also known as Tuss, a junior from Kansas City, Missouri, has been customizing and restoring sneakers out of his dorm room for a year and a half. Billberry has also done work for professional athletes like former KU basketball players Ben McLemore and Tarik Black. “I do about 12-15 customs a month. I can do restorations, color changes and themed customs also,” Billberry says. “People want to be different than everyone else. With the option of customized shoes, they can have exactly what they want and make their ‘perfect pair’ come to life.” Sometimes a specific shoe is so near and dear to a sneakerhead’s heart that they never intend on taking them out of the box or wearing them, which is called “deadstocking.” Some collectors deadstock shoes because they don’t want the shoe to ever touch the ground and others never wear any of their shoes and just buy them for their display, like one would do with a coin collection. “I bought the Colombia 11’s last year and I still haven’t put those on,” Rimson says. “Part of the reason is that I knew everyone would have them on as soon as they dropped and I like being different.” The growing popularity of the culture has also led to sneakerheads forming their own sneaker cliques of collectors who come together to buy, trade and sell shoes among members in the group. KC Sole, a sneaker organization that started in 2012 in Kansas City, prides itself on being much more than just a community of collectors. KC Sole has coordinated charity events and participates in Kansas City’s Breast Cancer walk every year. KC Sole also annually hosts one of the biggest sneaker conventions in the Midwest, where shoe lovers go for networking, resales and trading. Next year’s SneakFest will take place on June 20th at the Aladdin Hotel in Downtown Kansas City. “To date, our biggest turnout was about 5,000 people and ticket prices vary every year,” says Ugochukwu Osuala, the social media director of KC Sole. Some sneaker cliques are very selective and appear to be an arrogant club of sneaker geeks. At my high school there was a
sneaker crew called “F.A.K.E.” (which stood for “Fly Ass Kicks kicks on their feet, not all sneakerheads walk with their nose in Everyday”) and everybody wanted to be in the group. We would the air. all watch them walk down the halls in their matching t-shirts just “It is a bit of a materialistic culture and some do only buy shoes hoping one would look our way. They were like a hip-hop version for their shock value, popularity and to have rare expensive shoes of the Mean Girls with their own lingo and procedures. When that others don’t have, but it’s much more than that for me,” says I worked up the nerve to ask a member how I could join, I got Jack Soto, a freshman from Lawrence, Kansas. “I probably won’t one hard glance at my shoes and a do this forever, but I don’t plan on dismissive “Ha,” in response. I as- “I probably won’t do this forever, but I don’t stopping anytime soon.” plan on stopping anytime soon.” sumed that I wasn’t “fly” enough. Even though I occasionally Being part of the sneakerhead splurge on a pair of these designer culture means dealing with judgment. Some of the known ste- shoes, seeing Ronisha Bandy with her shoe collection helped me reotypes about sneakerheads are that they are rude, snobby and understand what makes someone a true sneakerhead. There were show-offs. Those labels cause some to shy away from calling nearly 50 shoe boxes, organized by brand and filled with shoes themselves a sneakerhead. of various styles and colors. She had stories about their history “I’ve met some that are the most down to earth people ever and how she got them and when I was finally able to peel my and some that are arrogant, but you can’t categorize everyone eyes away from her shoes, I watched Bandy as she admired her under the same umbrella,” Rimson says. “Sneaker collecting is no own collection with pride and love in her eyes. That’s when I different than any other hobby; you wouldn’t call a button collec- realized what being a sneakerhead really means. A sneakerhead is tor arrogant.” not someone whose shoes are just an accessory. A sneakerhead is Although, there are some collectors who do see themselves someone whose shoes are part of who they are. as better than others because they are walking around with $600
THE SOLE OF A
It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday morning and Ronisha Bandy, a junior at the University of Kansas, is awake and sitting at her computer. Her feet are tapping in a nervous rhythm and little beads of sweat start to form on her forehead. She wants something, and she wants it bad. Bandy is on the Adidas website waiting for the highly sought after Yeezy Boosts sneakers to release so she can add them to her collection. She has her size selected and periodically refreshes the page so that she’ll be able to click “Add to Cart” immediately when they become available. The $200 shoe is a limited release and she does not know how many pairs are available worldwide; she just hopes that she is one of the lucky ones. An hour later, Bandy is still at attention, her eyes moving back and forth from the clock to her cart. Her stomach is growling but she can’t risk leaving her computer to get food and miss the release. Unlike most shoe releases, the Yeezys did not have a specific
time that they would drop, a tactic Adidas uses to prevent their site from crashing from too much traffic. Another 30 minutes slowly tick by, the clock hits 10:30, and Bandy sees that the Yeezys have officially dropped. She moves as fast as she can, clicking on her cart with lightning speed. “NOOO,” she stands up and yells in frustration. The page had frozen and refused to refresh. Despite the company’s release strategy, the Adidas website had crashed because too many people were trying to get the same shoe at one time, which meant Bandy and thousands of other shoe collectors would remain Yeezy-less. Her collection of 100 pairs of designer shoes would be incomplete in her eyes. Bandy’s scream of disappointment, followed by an hour of angry tweets about her broken heart, show that this was much more than just a shoe to her…this was life—the interesting, and at times emotional, life of a sneakerhead.
SNEAKERHEAD
Photography by Abby Liudahl
Sneaker collecting has been around since the ‘70s, when it originated from the hip-hop and street ball culture in New York. It has since grown into a worldwide billion dollar industry and culture, encompassing people of all ages, races and backgrounds. The term “sneakerhead” was coined to describe those people. Although no two sneakerheads are alike, there is one thing that they all have in common--a passion for sneakers. Bandy, a junior from Kansas City, says that sneakerheads are not made by the number of shoes they have; it is how knowledgeable they are about shoes. Each shoe, whether Michael Jordan’s Retro Jordans or Nike’s Foamposites, has its own history and story behind its style and colors (also referred to as “colorway”). For example, the Air Jordan Retro 12 “Flu Games” was the exact shoe Jordan wore during the NBA Finals game in 1997 when he had a temperature of nearly 100 degrees and dropped 38 points. According to Bandy, a true sneakerhead would need that
shoe in their collection because of that story. “When it comes to Jordans, I care about the history, especially when it is a shoe he played in,” Bandy says. However, being a sneakerhead is also much more than just knowing your history. The definition is found in the term itself; a mind that is always on sneakers. Some sneakerheads claim to have an addiction to buying shoes and I have met some that get every shoe release simply because it makes them feel good or it would feel weird not to get them. Although I would not call myself a sneakerhead, when I do get my hands on a new, dope pair of sneakers, I feel a rush of endorphins. I can’t wait to open the box, smell the beautiful new shoe scent and do my personal ritual of licking the bottom (don’t judge me). However, after the newness of the shoe wears off, I sometimes regret spending $200 of my scarce college student money, but it does not stop me from continuing to buy more.
Bruce Liese, professor of Clinical Psychology at the University of Kansas, says some people are searching for something special in their lives and certain resources affect people’s mindsets. “Some people engage in this kind of obsessive behavior for the immediate gratification without regard for long term consequences,” he says. “When areas of the brain that are pleasure centers are busy, the centers of the brain that involve judgement are not working.” There is also an element of competition in sneaker collecting. Everyone wants to be the person that gets the limited release or be the sneakerhead known for wearing a new pair of sneakers every day. Being a respected sneakerhead can boost your ego and popularity, especially if you have shoes that no one else has. You can imagine all the looks of envy that a person with the Yeezys gets from the Yeezy-less. Due to the limited number of pairs released, sneakerheads go through a lot to get their hands on the latest releases. Some shoes can be
purchased on the release day in stores like Finish Line, Champs and Footlocker or online with no hassle. However, a popular shoe with a heavy demand, like the Flu Games releasing in May 2016, require the raffle system. To participate in the raffle, you must go to the store during the week of the release, enter your name and shoe size in the raffle and pray that you get the call that your name was selected. Typically, in the larger stores, only 50 to 100 names are drawn for a general release and only 12 to 24 names could be drawn for a limited release, so whether or not you get the shoe is based on pure luck. Some earnest sneakerheads put their family members’ and friends’ names on multiple raffle tickets, just to give themselves a better chance at being picked. Others trust fate and have the “if it’s meant to be, it will be” mindset, reasoning that if they do not get the call then they weren’t supposed to have the shoe. But before stores across the country switched to the organized raffle system, many collectors had to endure mental and physical chal-
lenges just to get the latest released shoe. It was customary for collectors to camp outside of malls and stores to be first in line for a release. D’Amour Rimson, a junior from Kansas City, Missouri, says she once waited outside of Oak Park Mall for 24 hours for the release of the Air Jordan Olympic 7s in 2012. “They let us sit on the property for a while, then as it got dark people started to get rowdy so they made us wait in our cars until they opened the doors at 7a.m.,” Rimson says. “When they opened the doors, over 100 people ran across the street and into Finish Line. It was like a stampede.” My one experience with camping out for a shoe release was an exhausting but interesting adventure. One minute we were all laughing and swapping shoe stories like a happy family, but as soon as the security guard started turning the keys to the door our family became divided. I caught some jabs to the stomach, hurdled over fallen campers and Usain Bolt-ed to the store, on only three hours of car sleep, just to learn
that my size 10 had sold out. I limped out of the mall bruised and bag-less and never tried camping out again. Almost every Saturday morning, stampedes of shoe lovers were bursting into malls across the country and some shoe releases even ended in violence and death. In 2012, a man in New Jersey was stabbed to death during a brawl that broke out while he was in line for the Retro Jordan Concord’s release and just last year a teenager in Florida was killed after trying to rob a man of his just purchased Retro 11s. The increasing violence caused shoe stores to transition to the raffle drawing system and online purchasing, which has made it even more difficult for people to get a pair and, as Bandy experienced, it does not always end in success. However, the switch from camping to digital opened doors for a lucrative resale business. Some collectors make a living from buying shoes at the retail price and reselling them on eBay or on sneaker sites at a higher price. According to the Financial Times, “the sneaker resale market has reached an estimated $1 billion in sales.”
Marcus Andre, CEO of Markicks.com, an online store, says that he can make up to $2,000 a month re-selling shoes to people that were unlucky in their quest to get them or simply did not want to put in the effort to get the shoe. “I collected shoes for two years until I realized that I could also make a lot of money doing something I love,” Andre says. As many sneakerheads will quickly tell you, sneaker collecting is not cheap. These designer shoes can range from $170 to $500, depending on the shoe and can be resold online anywhere from $300 to $2,000. “I spend maybe $600 a month just on shoes, depending on what is releasing that month,” Bandy says. “My parents are always asking me ‘Why do you do this?’ and people think we are crazy or stupid for spending money, but it is what we love.” The steep price of each shoe makes the ability to budget one of the most important qualities of a sneakerhead. Some work multiple jobs and skip out on expensive meals or activities in order to keep their
collections up to date. Some even sell their old slightly worn pairs to get money to buy more. Young adults and college students are not the only ones saving every penny for shoes; young kids learn to budget for shoes by picking up extra chores or some resort to begging their parents. Young sneakerheads, like my 13-yearold brother, will trade a birthday full of gifts for just one nice pair of kicks. I was only in middle school when I had a deal with my parents that if I could get all A’s on my quarterly report card, I would be rewarded with a new pair of Jordans. With all of the money spent and the time and effort put into getting a specific shoe, most sneakerheads are meticulous in the care that they give their shoes. From how they store their shoes, clean their shoes and even walk in their shoes, the attention that sneakerheads give their shoes is similar to a doting new parent. (I’ve actually met a guy who kisses his shoes goodnight.) As most sneakerheads will attest, wear-
Students at KU can also go to Hashinger Hall for a quick shoe cleaning or a personal customization. Dairionn Billberry, also known as Tuss, a junior from Kansas City, Missouri, has been customizing and restoring sneakers out of his dorm room for a year and a half. Billberry has also done work for professional athletes like former KU basketball players Ben McLemore and Tarik Black. “I do about 12-15 customs a month. I can do restorations, color changes and themed customs also,” Billberry says. “People want to be different than everyone else. With the option of customized shoes, they can have exactly what they want and make their ‘perfect pair’ come to life.” Sometimes a specific shoe is so near and dear to a sneakerhead’s heart that they never intend on taking them out of the box or wearing them, which is called “deadstocking.” Some collectors deadstock shoes because they don’t want the shoe to ever touch the ground and others never wear any of their shoes and just buy them for their display, like one would do with a coin collection. “I bought the Colombia 11’s last year and I still haven’t put those on,” Rimson says. “Part of the reason is that I knew everyone would have them on as soon as they dropped and I like being different.” The growing popularity of the culture has also led to sneakerheads forming their own sneaker cliques of collectors who come together to buy, trade and sell shoes among members in the group. KC Sole, a sneaker organization that started in 2012 in Kansas City, prides itself on being much more than just a community of collectors. KC Sole has coordinated charity events and participates in Kansas City’s Breast Cancer walk every year. KC Sole also annually hosts one of the biggest sneaker conventions in the Midwest, where shoe lovers go for networking, resales and trading. Next year’s SneakFest will take place on June 20th at the Aladdin Hotel in Downtown Kansas City. “To date, our biggest turnout was about 5,000 people and ticket prices vary every year,” says Ugochukwu Osuala, the social media director of KC Sole. Some sneaker cliques are very selective and appear to be an arrogant club of sneaker geeks. At my high school there was a
sneaker crew called “F.A.K.E.” (which stood for “Fly Ass Kicks kicks on their feet, not all sneakerheads walk with their nose in Everyday”) and everybody wanted to be in the group. We would the air. all watch them walk down the halls in their matching t-shirts just “It is a bit of a materialistic culture and some do only buy shoes hoping one would look our way. They were like a hip-hop version for their shock value, popularity and to have rare expensive shoes of the Mean Girls with their own lingo and procedures. When that others don’t have, but it’s much more than that for me,” says I worked up the nerve to ask a member how I could join, I got Jack Soto, a freshman from Lawrence, Kansas. “I probably won’t one hard glance at my shoes and a do this forever, but I don’t plan on dismissive “Ha,” in response. I as- “I probably won’t do this forever, but I don’t stopping anytime soon.” plan on stopping anytime soon.” sumed that I wasn’t “fly” enough. Even though I occasionally Being part of the sneakerhead splurge on a pair of these designer culture means dealing with judgment. Some of the known ste- shoes, seeing Ronisha Bandy with her shoe collection helped me reotypes about sneakerheads are that they are rude, snobby and understand what makes someone a true sneakerhead. There were show-offs. Those labels cause some to shy away from calling nearly 50 shoe boxes, organized by brand and filled with shoes themselves a sneakerhead. of various styles and colors. She had stories about their history “I’ve met some that are the most down to earth people ever and how she got them and when I was finally able to peel my and some that are arrogant, but you can’t categorize everyone eyes away from her shoes, I watched Bandy as she admired her under the same umbrella,” Rimson says. “Sneaker collecting is no own collection with pride and love in her eyes. That’s when I different than any other hobby; you wouldn’t call a button collec- realized what being a sneakerhead really means. A sneakerhead is tor arrogant.” not someone whose shoes are just an accessory. A sneakerhead is Although, there are some collectors who do see themselves someone whose shoes are part of who they are. as better than others because they are walking around with $600
