You can’t take it all with you. This is what I’ve been telling myself over the past few months. And for some time, really. My life isn’t in danger that I know of, but it’s a realization that collecting, stockpiling, and, really, hoarding sneakers is a game with no end in sight. A neverending quest, a never-ceasing pile of leather, synthetic fabrics, rubber, and glue. What’s the goal of having more shoes than the next person? I’m not sure. Maybe it starts as admiration of footwear. Then it morphs into an attempt to one-up others. And finally it takes its final form, a crippling addiction that overruns every nook and cranny of your life and living space. If you let it.
I started off collecting sneakers like a lot of people. I was into skateboarding and underground hip-hop in high school. So I had Stevie Williams’ first DC Shoes and mid-top Adidas Shelltoes with the strap. It was a reflection of who I was. It made me feel cool. Cooler than the rest of the kids around me in suburban New Hampshire. It then turned into going on NikeTalk, collecting Nike SB Dunks and Air Maxes. Working in sneaker retail for nearly a decade. Getting into ASICS, New Balance, and Saucony. Working at Complex for more than a decade. And my whole life, at least on the professional side, being about shoes.
My life became inundated with shoes. I live in a two-bedroom apartment by myself and one of the rooms was completely filled with shoes. At one point it was manageable. I used to do workouts during the pandemic in my sneaker room. But then it became full to the brim. Shoes everywhere. Shoes in my bedroom. Shoes in my living room. Shoes in my kitchen. 100 pairs of shoes around my desk at my office. Everywhere I went I saw sneakers. And it became too much.
I don’t want anyone to think I’m ungrateful for being able to have these many sneakers, and it being a perk of my job. Every single day I say thanks for the opportunities I’ve been given. But it really strikes the question of how many sneakers are too many sneakers. When we start collecting shoes, we want to amass as many as possible. It’s cool to have more sneakers than someone else, or at least that’s what we’re told. People worship and idolize folks with more shoes than them. I’ve always thought that was weird. Sure it’s cool to have 1,000 pairs of sneakers, I guess, and to be able to hunt down rare or old ones that mean a lot to you. But it’s weird to say you idolize people because of their material possessions.
All of that aside, there comes a time when you need to part ways with some shoes. They’re items that don’t last forever. When you’ve been collecting sneakers for over 20 years, you have shoes that are falling apart, shoes that are cooked and look gross, and ones that you know you’ll never wear.
It’s totally cool—not that you need my approval—to sell shoes and make space. No one wants a storage locker full of old stuff they’ll never use again. It just crumbles with time. It’s also cool to give stuff away. That was my personal approach. Not to make me feel like a good person, but to pass on things I couldn’t find myself using to others who could need them. Bit by bit, I went through stacks of shoes. Brand new shoes I’d never wear, which weren’t of much value, I’d put out in packs around the neighborhood. Hoping that a passerby would see them, need them, and get something to put on their feet. It was winter anyway. Day by day, I’d put out a couple shoes. And they’d be gone before I knew it. It was cool to see people walking around the block with shoes on that I left out.
Other pairs, ones that I knew were maybe a bit special, I’d try to gift them to people I knew. Other pairs that were smoked, like old work out shoes, or pairs of ASICS Gel-Lyte 3s from 2008 that were disgusting, I’d just toss them out. Sorry.
But as I made space and got rid of more stuff, and felt like I got my life back in the process, it made me less delicate with what I’d keep and what I’d give away. At first, it was a bit tough to decide whether to hold onto things or not. I could find a few pairs I’d want to get off, but not more than that. But as I started to disassociate from shoes, and, in turn, clothes and doodads, I started to feel freer. The less material possessions I had, the more it boosted my mood. Not having sneakers spilling into every corner of my life, literally and figuratively, felt good.
On top of that, it made me appreciate the things I kept. The things I cherish to this day. I kept a lot of my Adidas I wore to football matches. But also chucked some that were forever soaked in beer and debauchery. Finally got rid of some of the first Nike shoes I collected. But also kept new stuff, some Air Max 95s that still mean the world to me, and, of course, any Nike SBs from the past. The less you have, the more special the things you do have feel. I realize that having a couple hundred pairs of sneakers is hardly being without. And I hope to get rid of more soon. But I wanted to do it, in some parts, to serve as an example that others can give away stuff they feel burdened by to those who truly need it.
One of the best things about getting rid of a lot of sneakers is that I can now easily go through my sneakers and find different pairs I want to wear. Not just stick to a rotation of a handful, because it’s too much of a hassle to pull something out.
There’s a bunch of scripture I could quote here. About living in abundance and living in need and being OK with both circumstances. Or about how you shouldn’t store up your treasures on earth where moths and vermin destroy them. But those also guided me to get rid of over 100 pairs of sneakers, too.
I’ve always believed in the idea that it’s not about how many sneakers you own that makes you a sneakerhead, but the connection you have to the sneakers you do own. You can have five pairs of sneakers and be a bigger sneakerhead than someone with 500 pairs.
So go through your closets, re-evaluate what you own. Find anything that’s worth parting with and think about if you want to give it away. If you don’t, that’s cool, too. The best advice I can give is to actually enjoy the sneakers while you’re here on earth, instead of just piling onto what you already own. Travel light, don’t carry a burden.
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