Three Stripes and a Very Generous Bartender

The barkeepers at the adidas Originals reopening in Berlin-Mitte were doing the Lord’s work. I came for the shoes—specifically the new ZX FLUX, that stripped-down runner with the compressed sole that looked like it had wandered in from 1984 and decided to stay—and I left having absorbed several long drinks and a small plate of finger sandwiches without fully accounting for either.

Afrob was there, which felt appropriate. Liquit Walker, die Orsons. Everyone circulating in that particular Berlin way where nobody looks like they’re trying and everybody looks good. The store itself had been gutted and rebuilt—cleaner, more deliberate, the kind of retail space where the architecture tells you the brand takes itself seriously. The ZX FLUX held up its end of the bargain: clean geometry, none of the bloated maximalism that was everywhere else that year. A shoe that understood restraint.

By early evening I was already watching the occasional stripe drift past me at odd angles. I don’t hold that against anyone.