The Long Plateau of the White Sneaker

Every trend carries its own death warrant, and the white sneaker has been riding an implausibly long wave. Stan Smiths and Superstars blanching the sidewalks of every city that considers itself relevant—it’s gone on long enough that I’ve started watching for the moment it tips. The second the last person who has never cared about footwear in their life shows up in a fresh pair of bleach-white Adidas, the people who cared first will pivot to something deliberately ugly. Neon Crocs. Plastic sandals. Whatever communicates "I got here first and I’ve already left."

But we’re not there yet. White leather low-tops remain the single best thing to happen to shoe design in decades, and I’ll defend that until someone proves me wrong. There’s something almost moral about a clean white sneaker—a daily commitment to maintenance, a small declaration that you give a shit about something as stupid and important as what’s on your feet. The moment they tip into total ubiquity is exactly the moment they become interesting to think about.