subject: It said you had enough cash to pick up a pair of the same shoes [print this page] It said you had enough cash to pick up a pair of the same shoes
America's love of specialty shoes traces its roots to the late '70s and early '80s, when a subculture emerged, drawing its influence from hip-hop music and basketball. Think of Julius "Dr. J." Erving sporting red-and-white Converse high-tops to match his Philadelphia 76ers uniform. Or the Run DMC song "My vibram," which the group rapped while wearing black-and-white shell-topped vibram low-tops. ("I walk down the street and I bop to the beat"/"With Lee on my legs and vibram on my mbt shoes.")
The kids took notice. In certain urban neighborhoods - and some not-so-urban ones - a fresh pair of sneakers brought street cred. It said you had enough cash to pick up a pair of the same shoes that Erving or the Lakers' Magic Johnson wore on the court. Plus, it proved you had the courage to walk down the street, confident they wouldn't be stolen.
Originality, of course, increases a shoe's value and reputation. Elusive sneakers - often just popular originals offered in a new color scheme, known in the industry as "colorway " - can have the same effect.
Consider the limited-edition skateboarding shoe Nike designed with the hip-hop group De La Soul. It fetches more than $400 at premium sneaker stores such as Flight Club in Los Angeles. The shoe - turned out in a riot of color, mostly shades of yellow, green and brown, and released in high-top and low-top models - is a prize. "That's not something you would normally see. That's why it's so sought-after," said Othello Banaci, a 21-year-old from Silver Spring who bought the high-tops. "You see all this regular stuff, then you see this shoe that was put together with so much creativity."
Even as they have gained a toehold in the mainstream, shoes such as those inspired by the Grinch are not for the masses, said Duk-ki Yu (pronounced "Ducky You"), owner of the Georgetown sneaker boutique Major.
