As A Sneakerhead, I’m Terrified Of Getting Old
The word “currency” is often associated with cash, money, numbers on a screen that are supposedly accessible anytime we need it. As much as I love money in a capitalist society, I’ve always regarded “time” as the most important currency. It’s the Thanos of the world, an inevitability.
Everything I do is measured in units of time. I don’t hate traffic because it moves slow, I hate it because I can’t do anything else productive with my time. It’s an unproductive aging process. I only book the earliest and latest flights because I know traffic will be lighter, airport security will be more efficient - less unproductive time, more productive aging. If I can afford to I’ll always pay more to save time. It’s an expense that gives me something invaluable in return.
Every May as my birthday approaches, I ponder what “time” has done to me. Not just physically, those are easy to identify. My troubling knees and aching back reminds me every day I’m a consequence of time. But mentally it’s a little more difficult to pinpoint. For the most part I still feel like I did when I was 25 (again, not physically). My taste in music is frozen in time and the content I enjoy are made by people from my generation or older. If you were to isolate my mental state, I’d tell you I haven’t aged a day since my mid 20s.
So what the fuck does this have to do with sneakers?
In the sneaker world, time seems to make people develop an inclination towards “dad shoes”. Not the trend of young people wearing a certain style of sneakers that helped propel a 23% increase in revenue from 2022 to 2023 for New Balance. But actual dad shoes in the purest form. Shoes made and meant for people who’ve surpassed the age where they give a shit about their appearance. The shoes you’re dad actually wore, and when you’re a teenager literally every dad is uncool.
This is something that time hasn’t unleashed on me yet, but like I said, time is Thanos and I can’t travel back take all the Infinity Stones. I dread a day where my preference starts to sway towards sneakers that prioritize comfort above all else. What would life be like if I looked at a Jordan 5 and thought to myself “I just don’t like these anymore”? More importantly who would I be? So much of your teens and 20s are figuring out who you are, your values, your identity. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I would feel like I lost part of my identity.
I know there are OGs who still love the same sneakers that they grew up with, but it’s impossible to deny a lot of that passion begins to fade for many as tastes and priorities change. Every part of my brain wants to convince myself that I’m immune to this, but 10 years ago I never thought I’d look at a backyard with plenty of space in the suburbs with envy.
As a naturally skeptical and pessimistic person it’s hard not to view life dwelling on past regrets or preparing for the future, so I’m often reminded to live in the present. It’s a difficult thing to apply in practice, there’s no switch to “present mode” where one can start basking in the glory of now. But in a roundabout way having a wall of sneakers made up of mainly Nike and Jordan retros that I only dreamed of having as a kid is a reminder to appreciate the moment. Not just my ability to afford these material items, but to appreciate my current preference and passion for these sneakers. There may very well come a day where these same sneakers turn me off and I start doing double takes on a pair of comfortable Skechers. That is a future I’m not looking forward to.