Art and sole

By Lesley Gillilan
The Financial Times, London

Give or take a couple of go-faster stripes and a brand logo, one pair of trainers looks much like another to me. So, I am faintly bemused by the world of the sport shoe connoisseur (or the hardcore "sneaker freak"), for whom the differences between, say, an Adidas and a Reebok are paramount.

What should surely be a case of choosing a basketball shoe over a tennis one has become all wrapped up in identity and street cred. And, yes, I have seen the shops. I know there are hundreds of different styles to choose from. But what drives someone to buy every pair?

According to Sneakers, a new book written and designed by the team behind London-based creative agency Unorthodox Styles, there are myriad reasons from fashion to hero worship; brand loyalty to team loyalty; and technological innovation. The mass appeal of trainers, it says, has become a "full-blown mainstream phenomenon".

The book, it might be said, is a neat marketing tool (Unorthodox's largest client is Adidas) but there is no denying the enthusiasm shared by this team of genuine sneaker fans. Not only do they fund Crooked Tongues (www.crookedtongues.com), an online "sneaker resource" that has achieved cult status among rubber-soled urbanites, but their compulsion to buy trainers in unnecessary quantities borders on the obsessive. One member, Russell Williamson, has 70 pairs; colleague Chris Law (or C-Law, to quote his "user name") has at least 200. And, clearly, they are not the only guys on the planet with a serious sneaker habit. "When we started the website in 1999 it was one of the only sneaker sites on the web," says Russell. "Now we are one of 50, most of which have started up in the last year." Worldwide sneaker culture is now, he says, "a huge, huge thing". In Japan (which is particularly loyal to the Nike "swoosh") it is so huge there are several magazines dedicated entirely to the subject. If Adidas were a drug, the Unorthodox Styles team would regard themselves as moderate users. They know a guy in Essex who has 3,000 pairs.

Since I own only one pair of slightly grubby Converse All Stars, circa 2003, worn twice a week in the gym (OK, once a week, now and again), I have to ask: why so many? "If you like trainers, you like them," says Russell. And if Russell likes a particular model, he buys two pairs. How else, he explains, can he keep up appearances? "I tend to wear each pair for a few days at a time," he says. "But that's sacrilege to the true sneaker head. To be seen in the same pair over two days is really looked down upon."

Sneaker culture, he admits, is fed by one-upmanship (and, please note, the "man" in upmanship is not misplaced). Indeed, I imagine these fans comparing toe-boxes and tongue graphics in the same way some men talk about engines. Even technical terms, "spoiler flex", Torsion (a midfoot insert), and APS (an Antipronation and Shock Absorption system used by Adidas in the heel), smack of motoring speak. Girls, they acknowledge, are into sneakers, too (Chris Law's wife has 80 pairs) but this phenomenon is driven in the main by testosterone.

In spite of the book's subtitle ("the complete collectors' guide") and its authors' encyclopedic knowledge of sneaker culture, neither Russell nor C-Law sees himself as hardcore. The true collector, they explain, tends to specialise in "deadstock" (as in vintage models kept in as-new condition), or limited editions, often sticking to one particular brand. They also spend serious sums of money on footwear, which explains, perhaps, why the true geek does not wear his trainers.

The Unorthodox Styles guys advocate a more eclectic user-friendly approach, buying - and wearing - different brands and different genres. They do, of course, have favourites. When I asked for a list of must-haves they chose a Puma States, a Reebok Pump Fury, seven different Nikes (Air Jordan 1, Dynasty, Air Safari) and eight Adidas models, including the classic Superstar (released in 1969 as the first "low top" leather basketball shoe) and the ZXZ ADV (a running shoe, first released in 2002). Investment value, they say, is an added bonus, but the canny collector can make serious money. Chris Law's most expensive purchase is a pair of limited edition Nike Dunks, bought for £150 and now worth £500. And prices can go much higher. A pair of original 1970s Adidas Jabbars (as in Kareem Abdul Jabbar, the player behind the first celebrity endorsed basketball shoe) can be worth about $1,000. An original Michael Jordan player sample (circa 1985) anything up $25,000.

Age, however, seems immaterial. A recent limited edition Adidas 35 Superstar cost $150 when it was launched in January to celebrate the shoe's 35th anniversary; barely five months later a pair would fetch about $1,000.

Genuine history does plays a part in the iconography of the sports shoe; and it has a surprisingly long one. The oldest marques, Pro-Ked (originally produced as Keds) and Converse (whose classic Chuck Taylor All Star was born in the 1920s) date from 1917. Puma and Adidas are the 1940s offspring of two brothers, Adolph and Rudolph Dassler, who went their separate ways after an argument (but not before Jesse Owens won four gold medals at the 1936 Olympics in a pair of Dassler shoes).

Sports, and in particular basketball, is still the cornerstone of sneaker fashion, but although there is a boom in retro, or "old skool", trainers (re-issued, or revamped vintage classics) the cult of modern celebrity increasingly plays a part.

Influential celebrity sneaker fans include the band, Jamiroquai, Oasis's Noel Gallagher (vintage Adidas is his speciality), and hip-hop entrepreneur Damon Dash, who is rumoured to wear a new pair of Adidas every day (after chucking yesterday's out). Adidas is a favourite among rappers: Run-DMC even wrote a song, "My Adidas". Needless, to say, fans follow in their, pardon the pun, footsteps. Similarly, the Campus range (first produced in the 1970s) gained a cult following in the 1990s when it was adopted by the Beastie Boys. David Beckham is an Adidas ClimaCool man. I could go on.

Adidas is also a favourite with the UK's "football casual" set. The hip hop basketball dudes in the US tend to wear Pro-Keds or Nike Airforce. But there is no one way to wear sneakers and no hard and fast rules about who wears what. Russell Williamson sometimes wears trainers with a suit. His mate C-Law thinks that's a bit "Robbie Williams" ("I wear trainers to work but I would still wear Guccis to a wedding"). The only thing that unites every single sneaker freak and every serious collector is keeping them clean and fresh. In sneakerland, my grubby All-Stars are a disgrace.

Keeping shoes in the fridge is only for "extreme" sneakerheads, say Unorthodox Styles, but if you want to keep their value you must keep them in their original box (complete with tissue wrapping and labels). Chris Law may not be hardcore but he always ends his day with a footwear cleanse and tone routine (using baby wipes, cotton buds and a toothbrush).

Does he wear trainers, I wonder, to play any sort of, er, sport? "No way", says C-Law. He does have an old pair of Nike Air Max for knocking around a football with the kids. "But I'd still clean them afterwards," he says. And put them away nicely in their box.

"Sneakers" by Unorthodox Styles is published by Thames & Hudson