Author: Trey Taylor

You don’t need to be a sneakerhead to recognize that, in 2019, athletic brands are now fashion brands and vice versa. This crossover has fueled massive growth in the sneaker industry. Today, sneakers are so much more than what you wear while working out. Vans, a brand created by and for skateboarders, hasn’t had much trouble convincing consumers its sneakers are cool. While they’ve experimented with fresh designs and buzzy collaborations to fuel interest from fashion-conscious consumers over the last several years, they haven’t had to push against the same perception challenges as some other sneaker labels (see: Puma, Reebok and ASICS). This presumably frees Vans up to focus on other things—like comfort. Yes, skateboarders and the stylish people that want to look like them care about arch support too.

To that end, last week Vans introduced a new version of its iconic Era sneaker that looks exactly the same on the outside but is markedly more comfortable on the inside. The technology, which the brand has dubbed the ComfyCush (say it in a SoCal surfer voice for extra points), features a foam-and-rubber interior and a smooth tongue for added comfort and arch support. In a press release, Matthew Pino, Vans’ Global Product Merchandising Manager, points out that “from five feet away, no one is going to question that it is different from our beloved Classic silhouettes.” Of course, at $60-$65 per pair, ComfyCush Eras do cost a little bit more than the original foam-free version. Still, compared to most “cool” sneakers on the market today, they’re a steal. Style, comfort and affordability—that’s the 2019 sneaker trifecta right there.

“Quiz: What Dad Shoe Are You?” reads one headline posted on the Onion-esque Instagram @DeadstockReport, a new cultural voice that puts sneakerheads and hypebeasts in its crosshairs. Users answer questions to find out which popular sneaker—the Nike Air Monarch or Yeezy 700, for example—embodies their alter dad ego.

Since its launch in June 2018, Deadstock Report has quickly become a prime destination for sneakerhead satire. In less than a year, it has already garnered an impressive 22,000 followers. How has it achieved such high numbers in such a short amount of time? Well, cofounder Nick Crippen attributes some of the success to his “sarcastic feelings” and proximity to the “culture,” allowing him and his partner-in-comedy, Clayton Rossner, to “create a brand that’s more than just a meme page.” From poking fun at Supreme store lines to the absurdity of reseller culture, the sneakerhead jesters have proved themselves to be masters of hypebeast comedy––though they aren’t the first.

Popular accounts like @FakeYeezyBoosts and @Vetememes have been cranking out memes about hypebeasts and sneakerheads for years, well before Deadstock Report got its feet wet.

Eventually, FakeYeezyBoosts’ influence became so pervasive that it was enlisted by Grailed, a popular reseller site, to create personalized content for its socials. Although the memedom of social media is a highly competitive arena, there is still a sense of camaraderie between these digital comedians, forged by a shared love of fashion-centric comedy. Grailed brand director Lawrence Schlossman was more than happy to talk to ONE37pm [[?]] about Deadstock Report’s recent success.

“I think Deadstock Report is carrying the torch for guys like myself who love fashion and take it seriously. We take a step back and poke fun at the culture and ourselves,” Schlossman says.

Schlossman is a longtime industry vet. He operates the Twitter account @four_pins, one of the most famous drip feeds in social media history. Recently revived by Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey, the menswear comedy staple made its celebrated return to the ranks of Twitter’s elite this January.

Like Four Pins, Deadstock Report hits home for many fans because its comedy pays homage to past streetwear and style traditions, but the digital vehicles of sneakerhead satire aren’t limited to visual content like Instagram and Twitter posts. Highsnobiety’s weekly podcast, The Dropcast, is an example of an audio-based platform that also casts a satirical eye on sneakerhead culture. Jian DeLeon, host of The Dropcast and editorial director of Highsnobiety, is very conscious of the cultural stickiness of content generated by accounts like Deadstock Report.

“I think Deadstock Report is hilarious,” says DeLeon. “It adds a self-aware sense of humor to a community that often takes itself too seriously.”

To get a sense of Deadstock Report’s savvy approach to sneakerhead comedy, you need only check out one of its recent Instagram stories: a hilarious collage of pictures featuring bootcut jeans and popular sneakers. For better or worse, GQ recently published an article about bootcut jeans gaining momentum for a comeback in the world of mainstream fashion. It was the perfect story for Deadstock Report to jump on. The conversation about the polarizing ’90s trend was just beginning to brew, and Deadstock Report didn’t waste any time capitalizing on the opportunity.

Crippen used Reddit to find a picture of bootcut jeans with Yeezys for the Instagram story, and before long Deadstock’s followers began to pile onto the joke. With hundreds of user-submitted images, he posted the most relevant photos.

“It started with one picture, a pair of Yeezys with bootcut jeans. I thought the photo was funny and put it on the story,” says Crippen. Before long, “about 300 messages hit my inbox with bootcut pics.”

Bootcut jeans are almost as antiquated as the days when images of baggy denim pants paired with coveted kicks ruled the online sneaker forum #NikeTalkDenim, one of the internet peanut gallery’s first digital stages for ranting and raving about the good, bad and ugly in the fashion world. This predates social media and Instagram’s “explore” page, a reminder of the strong effect social media can have on the popularity (or collective hatred) of an outfit.

Whatever your opinion of the bootcut jean outfit, there’s no denying its recognized status in fashion history. Deadstock Report’s lighthearted pandering to older trends is a huge part of its allure. By tapping into nostalgic aspects of fashion culture, while also introducing older styles to younger generations, it is able to bridge the generational gap through the shared language of satire.

“I think it is something that is needed. Just like The Onion does the news, this is like our version of The Onion,” says stylist and designer Megan Ann Wilson, who has worked with Chicago Bulls point guard Zach LaVine as well as companies like Air Jordan and Reebok. “It’s an interesting take on the culture, and I think it doesn’t hurt to poke some fun at it and just have fun with it and realize that, like, it’s life for a lot of us but you don’t have to take it too seriously,” she says.

In a world where Twitter feeds refresh faster than you can say “140 characters,” Deadstock’s comedic intuition and keen nose for emerging trends have catapulted it into popularity. But what’s the secret sauce? Well, it might be Deadstock’s ability to play to a wide range of comedic sensibilities––its cheeky attitude and lighthearted approach are just as approachable to the sneakerhead as to the bootcut jean enthusiast, giving every creed and color of fashion-obsessed fan more than a good reason to smash that follow button.

For a fleeting but character-building moment last year, I wanted to own a pair of Balenciaga Triple S sneakers. You might have seen them: The paragon of 2018’s ugly dad sneaker trend, they are molded around the foot like a daycare–made Plasticine mountain. Some come with mesh and contrasting colorways, like this Frankenstein one. Others come pre-dirtied so you can pretend to look poor. Don’t be mistaken, though—these sneakers cost $895, or a little over one month’s rent for me (I live in Bushwick).

That didn’t stop many sneakerheads from hunting them down. New York Times reporter Jon Caramanica documented his eight-month odyssey to secure a pair when they were first released. Then, three months later, rapper Wiz Khalifa ended them with a tweet bemoaning their ubiquity. By October of last year, the Triple S was on life support. Luckily, I paid my rent. On time.

Thanks to these chonk sneakers, however, Balenciaga is nearing €1 billion (or $1.13 billion) in revenue. A lot of the brand’s recent financial success is owing to the Triple S. Now millennial men are some of Balenciaga’s most prized customers. But why do any sneakers cost a wallet-burning $895? Are gold flakes baked into the soles? Or are we just being hoodwinked by brands like Balenciaga, Louis Vuitton and Calvin Klein?

Tl;dr: How is this shit so expensive?

In some cases, we are being hoodwinked. Though luxury menswear made up less than a quarter of the $1.7 trillion apparel and footwear market in 2017, according to Euromonitor, menswear is expected to outpace women’s wear sometime in the next three years. (Menswear currently accounts for 5 to 7 percent of all revenue at Louis Vuitton, but rumor is prices are going up thanks to men’s creative director Virgil Abloh.) To boot, teen spending is up on clothing, with dudes shelling out up to $2,600 a year on what they wear, according to a 2018 Piper Jaffray survey.

The way goods are priced is down to an exact science for luxury brands. Labels like Louis Vuitton and Balenciaga generally begin by using more “luxe” raw materials at the design stage, usually produced by manufacturers in Euro-Mediterranean countries. “It goes without saying that materials used by luxury brands are almost always—and sometimes by a multiple—more expensive than materials used for mass-market products,” says Jeremy Cai, CEO of a new invite-only marketplace called Italic. “For example, top-grade Italian leather suppliers will sell their leathers for several times what a commodity American leather supplier may charge, and a premium technical material that Gore-Tex sells will go for many times its lesser counterpart.”

Italic is hoping to democratize this supply chain by allowing consumers to buy quality goods directly from the same factories as top brands but without the branding. So, for example, you can buy an unbranded pair of shoes from the same factory that makes footwear for upscale brands like Church’s or Kenzo. “We mandate that our manufacturers use the same or equivalent-tier supplier, materials and craftsmen as their most premium clients,” Cai adds.

As one high-end retail executive in Britain explained, on the condition of anonymity, not every material that goes into a luxury item is necessarily luxurious. “Normally, things like coats, jackets, suiting, shoes and bags are made from absolutely gorgeous fabrics you wouldn’t ever find on the high street,” he said. “If you need proof, try on a Zara suit jacket and then try on a McQueen blazer.”

The idea stands to reason. Fast-fashion retailers have to produce quickly, and at scale, so quality is often sacrificed. But what about the recent trend of luxury streetwear? “Where things get murkier is in the rise of streetwear as luxury fashion items. How luxurious can a cotton T-shirt or sweatshirt really be?” the retail executive continued. “Often in these categories, the materials are made from and the factories they are made in are of dubious origin.”

Prices of raw materials dictate material trends in fashion. Not to get all Devil Wears Prada cerulean sweater on you, but if shearling suddenly turns up in the collections of ten designers, it can likely be pinpointed to the low cost of sheep hides six months prior. Luxury sneakers, for the most part, don’t rely on fluctuating prices of raw materials. Balenciaga’s Triple S shoe is made of leather, mesh, jersey and, at the toe box, a proprietary reflective 3M material, according to The RealReal. Triple S sneakers “were initially made in Italy, but the manufacturer of the shoe was moved to China, where they have a savoir-faire and capacities to produce a lighter shoe,” a customer service representative explained to one customer who thought the $895 meant a “Made in Italy” tongue tag.

Let’s say I bought a pair of Triple S sneakers at the RRP [recommended retail price] of $895 before taxes. I’d still have sticker shock, but let’s see how they arrived here. The “cost price”—an industry term for the base cost after manufacturing and labor is covered—is doubled to determine the wholesale price for online and brick-and-mortar retailers. Across the board, a retailer will generally add a markup of 2.3 times the wholesale price. If that standard markup is taken off, the price is about $390. That would represent the designer’s wholesale price. Halve that and you have the cost price, the actual cost of making the shoes: $195.

OK, so once these puppies are made, they head to one of a brand’s many outlets or a department store like Bergdorf Goodman, Saks Fifth Avenue or Barneys New York. “It drifts somewhere around where what we paid for it is between 30 percent and 50 percent of the full price we are selling it for. For instance, a pair of Balenciaga Triple S sneakers cost us £300 to buy from Balenciaga (they probably made it in China for £100) and we sell it for £695,” said the retail executive. “A Raf Simons T-shirt has a cost price of £95, we sell it for £265. Fine jewelry and watches are where the margin is much lower. The easy way to look at it is that everyone in the chain’s cost is a third.”

When retailers announce sales, they can comfortably knock off up to 50 percent and still make a profit. “We can usually make a profit up until about 70 percent, then we’re breaking even,” said the retail executive. “Most retailers now do 10 percent or 20 percent off sale prices (that could already be at manufacturer prices) after a sale has run for about a month in all markets. The aim at that point is to get rid of it because to store and handle the stock costs money, and you need to make room for new items.” To make sure you’re not getting hoodwinked, look for sale periods beginning in May and December.

I may never be so well heeled as to be seen stomping the pavement in clunky Balenciaga sneakers. But to know that I saved $895 by pumping the brakes on my short-lived impulse gives me a true sense of how luxury feels, and that is worth more to me than any snea—

Fuck it, add to cart.

Read more: A Comprehensive History of Men’s Airport Style