Superstar Flowers

If I had a million dollars, I’d buy coke and video games and some impossible Kate Upton-Selena Gomez hybrid to sleep with. But honestly, most of it would go to Superstars. Every single adidas Originals Superstar that exists or will ever exist. Every version, every color, every material. Before they were trendy, after they stopped being trendy, forever. The Superstar is the only shoe. There is no other discussion.

The latest one has dark floral print running down the side—deep flowers against white leather with those three iconic stripes. They built it for women, sold it as a women’s shoe, engineered the whole thing because girls supposedly love flowers. I don’t care. That distinction means nothing to me.

There’s something pure about wanting something without needing the reason to make sense. You see it, you know it’s right, and the need is just there. That’s how the Superstar works every single time.

I want to own it, lick it, wear it. In that order or reversed or all at once. Doesn’t matter. It’s a Superstar. An adidas Original. No debate. No compromise. No world where I don’t need this.