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Get In Line

Get In Line

The Cult of the Line and Weekly Drops.

Shoppers standing in line to get into a Supreme store in Tokyo. For many, the lure is as often the wait as the wares. Andrew Faulk for The New York Times

Theolus Jackson slouched against the stanchion separating him from the entrance of Supreme, the streetwear emporium on Lafayette Street in SoHo. He had registered on the company’s website to pick up a ticket assuring him a spot near the head of a line that by 10 a.m. that day spooled around the corner toward Broadway.

Wearing loose trousers, a football jersey and earbuds, he bided his time. “Most of the time I have my music, so I’m not bothered,” Mr. Jackson said. “I come every week — I like the vibe — and I just chill.”

The ostensible draw for Mr. Jackson and his comrades on that balmy June morning, the so-called drop prompting a couple of hundred fashion die-hards to snap open their wallets, was a jacket ($298) and companion shirt ($158), stamped with the image of a Richard Prince-inspired cowpoke, which sold out within moments after 11, when Supreme opened its doors.

Did it matter? Not much. Though upmarket streetwear — hoodies, sneakers, skateboards, ball caps, sanitation-worker boiler suits — is the ostensible lure for these hunter-gatherers, the wares are just part of the draw.

“These kids don’t come to go into the store,” said Jeff Carvalho, the executive editor of Highsnobiety, a content-and-commerce website and magazine focused on high-end streetwear. “They want to be in the line.” Casting an appraising eye on the restive Thursday morning scene, he drove home the point.

“The line is the new community,” Mr. Carvalho said. “When 200 to 300 kids are lining up outside of a store, it’s because they want to be part of something.”

Mr. Carvalho and Jian DeLeon, Highsnobiety’s editorial director, make it their business to monitor the weekly drops at emporiums like Supreme, Nike Lab and Palace, the London-based skate-fashion store with a new outpost in New York.

On this day, they had offered themselves as field guides to what promised be a highly engaging hybrid of tribal rite and street theater, a latter-day alterative to the once-ubiquitous bands of adolescents raucously swarming malls.

“Come get your number — hurry before they pass you over,” a gangly guy in a tank top yelled to a companion. “You only have a certain amount of grace period.”

Like other fans of the streetwear brand, Kenta Kashiuagi shows off his reward in Tokyo: a new Supreme T-shirt. Andrew Faulk for The New York Times

His shouts and those of companions volleying from one end of the street to the other pricked up the ears of hypervigilant store personnel ready to pounce on infractions.

Glancing at them furtively, one petitioner stammered: “I can’t talk to you. I’m going to get thrown off the line.”

But overbearing security and a building sense of pressure did not seem to ruffle the mood. For many of these strivers, the chance to swap insider intelligence and bask in camaraderie was, after all, the point.

“Those things make the kids more agreeable to doing something that on surface you think is a sort of absurd proposition,” said Noah Callahan-Bever, the editor of Complex, an online youth-culture magazine that has chronicled the evolution of the line phenomenon in a series of videos.

Absurd, for sure, when a “luxury” recliner can be reserved at the multiplex on an app like Fandango, and a puffer coat from Vetements summoned at a click at ssense.com, rendering the queue all but obsolete.

Jay Hines, a fashion stylist, talking to shoppers outside Supreme’s London location. Lauren Fleishman for The New York Times

Yet the line persists, a global trend stretching these days from Tokyo to Tucson and Berlin to the Bronx. Its members, millennials and their younger Gen Z kin, share a mind-set, making common cause of a yen for authenticity. What’s more, they defy facile stereotyping.

“One time I saw a guy with a three-piece suit,” Mr. DeLeon said. “He was wearing immaculate Moscot tortoiseshell glasses. He told me, ‘I’m a lawyer meeting with a client, but I want first to get a sweatshirt here.’”

A mere half-dozen years ago, a shared lust for skateboard and locker-room gear sustained the community. “A limited-edition sneaker was so rare that when two people were wearing it, you knew something connected them — certain music, certain art, certain fashion,” said David Fischer, Highsnobiety’s Berlin-based chief executive. But time, as he noted, wrought changes.

Today, the queue is partly a resellers’ market: energetic young entrepreneurs snapping up wares in multiples, then flipping them at soaring markups on eBay or selling them for pocket change to finance their own buys. On this day, the spirit of commerce was lively on Lafayette Street, with vans lining the far side of the block, the trunks popped to display boxes and bags packed with limited-edition inventory from Nike, Supreme and other vendors — a lure for passers-by.

“Reselling, it’s an easy way to make money,” said a tank-top-garbed youth who goes by the street name Young Sin. “I do this every Thursday. You can’t get locked up for it.” Young Sin, Y S to his friends, planned to pick up a cap for himself and offer additional, marked-up items to all comers.

“I like Supreme,” he said, shrugging, “but they could be Old Navy as long as it helps pay my rent.”

For many others, though, the wait itself is sufficient reward. Some could have taken a page from Andy Warhol, who observed in his loosely structured 1975 memoir, “The Philosophy of Andy Warhol,” that lining up for movie tickets offered distinct pleasures. “The possibility of never getting in is exciting,” Warhol mused. “But after that, waiting to get in is the most exciting.”

Traveling in packs has additional perks. “The death of the shopping center has created this void in kids’ lives,” Mr. Callahan-Bever said. “It’s being filled in part by this society of kids, some known to each other only from the internet, all of them into this niche product that acts as a social identifier. For them, standing in line for a T-shirt or baseball cap is a way of telling the world that you know about something that not everyone is hip to.”

Professed connoisseurs, plenty of these queuers like the kick of the chase. “You can’t find this stuff at Bloomingdale’s or Macy’s,” said a 40-something, suede-clad man at Supreme, too press-shy to provide his name. “I like the exclusiveness of people always seeing me and saying, ‘Wow.’ It’s kind of like being a movie star.”

As David Andrews noted playfully in his 2015 pop culture rumination, “Why Does the Other Line Always Move Faster?”: “I can attest to the sense of togetherness that sometimes develops with the strangers around you in line.”

Shoppers standing in line along Lafayette Street to get into Supreme’s SoHo store. Jackie Molloy for The New York Times

“We become a little band of survivors, with a grim gallows humor to match,” Mr. Andrews wrote. “We’re all in this together.”

Will Gamble, a student at the University of Exeter, is a regular at Supreme’s weekly drops in London. “The line,” he said, “is quite a sociable thing. I’ve made friends purely from going to Supreme every week and seeing what’s going on.”

Shared interests with his queuing companions vary from gallery hopping to sports to music. “We’re big fans of Radiohead, and we like a bit of art,” said Mr. Gamble, the preening owner of a “pill shirt,” a Supreme item influenced by a signature artwork by Damien Hirst.

“I meet up with one of my friends,” he said. “We wait, we take photos — it’s almost the whole day.”

What, after all, is the point of the wait if you can’t share? As Mr. Fischer, at 38 an old hand in this unlikely ritual, views it, “Standing in line and finally getting the product, that’s only one exciting part of the cycle.”

The peak experience: going social with your trophy.

“Once you have it,” he said, “you get to snap it a couple of times on Instagram.”

And after? “It’s on to the next thing,” he said.

Ruth La Ferla, The New York Times

“I Think Trainer’s are Stupid”, Michael Stipe

“I Think Trainer’s are Stupid”, Michael Stipe

Tux ‘n’ Trainers

The New Museum hosted its 40th annual spring gala last week at Cipriani Wall Street in New York. The event honored artist Chris Ofili and had a “Tux ‘n’ Trainers” theme, requiring guests to pair their formal attire with sneakers. SURFACE showed up to ask noteworthy attendees how they chose their footwear.

John Waters

Oh, I don’t know! I wear these a lot. They’re Comme des Garçons—they go with everything!

Jack Whitten

 

Well, these are homemade. I spray painted them.


Marilyn Minter, Bill Miller, and Cindy Sherman

These are the ones I wear every day!

I can never ever wear them out.

I’m not wearing trainers because I didn’t think it went with what I was wearing!


 Marcus and Cherie Weldon

I grew up in the U.K., and Adidas were our favorite sneakers because of soccer. I’ve always liked Adidas shoes, and we found his and hers matching.

They’re Margiela.

I just wanted to be comfortable.


Michael Stipe and Thomas Dozol

I think trainers are stupid, so I wore boots … like a lumberjack.

I was thinking ‘Happy Birthday’ because I got them as a birthday gift. My wife picked them out, so I was thinking ‘Thank you,’ I guess.


Bill Powers and Cynthia Rowley

They were the least beat-up sneakers I had in my closet, and they were a father’s day gift, so they say ‘Best Dad’ in there.


Karen Wong and Chris Ofili

(Chris had no comment)

I was looking for sneakers that were futuristic. Future forward.


Racquel Chevremont and Mickalene Thomas

(Yes, that’s New Museum’s own Paul Jackson photobombing in the background)

I was thinking of height when I put on these shoes. I wanted to be tall and towering and Amazon-like.

I chose them because they’re so comfortable. I walk miles and miles because I’m obsessed with this app that counts your steps everyday.


Julian Schnabel and a friend

These are really light.

You know, I like these sneakers. They have a blue, kind of patent leather quality to them and black canvas. I just enjoy them.


(Photos: Antwan Duncan)

Athletic Gear Has Influenced Everything

Athletic Gear Has Influenced Everything

Alexander Wang’s new Adidas collaboration for spring 2017. (Kate Warren for The Washington Post)
NEW YORK — The track pants, T-shirts and jackets are basic black, which doesn’t sound all that interesting, but the color manages to give it all a sleeker look so that it is at once retro and kitschy but also modern. Alexander Wang designed the collection in a collaboration with Adidas Originals, which he unveiled on the runway as part of his spring 2017 presentation.

It may be hard to believe, but once a time sweatpants and sweatshirts were just throwaway garments meant for, well, sweating. Then along came hip hop and Run-DMC and Juicy Couture, and sweatsuits became a fashion thing, a cultural thing, a rarified thing — not because of how they looked but because of how much they cost.

The advertising campaign for the collection features models on the streets of New York looking particularly grumpy, perhaps because several of them appear to be dragging overstuffed garbage bags — or perhaps designer gym bags that just look like Hefty bags. Whatever they are, they don’t look fun to haul around.

Getting one’s hands on this collection will be a complicated endeavor as it will initially be sold via pop-up trucks that will be driving around in New York on Sunday, and in Tokyo and London on Sept. 17. Knowing exactly where those trucks will be or when involves following either Wang or Adidas Originals on Instagram or Snapchat or calling 917-325-3342. For those with more patience, the collection will be available in the usual online and bricks-and-mortar way in the spring.

The unveiling of the 84-piece unisex collection, which also included footwear, was celebrated after the runway show with an elaborate video and giant music festival that suddenly appeared as the catwalks’ backdrop gave way to reveal food trucks, a performance stage, a fully functional 7-Eleven, Slurpee machines, a McDonald’s and plenty of booze.

That is a lot of hoopla to sell track pants, pullovers and sneakers, which speaks to the dominance of street and athletic style over pretty much everything else in the fashion universe. Sacai’s Chitose Abe has created a collection with Nike. So has the brand Undercover. Stella McCartney has a long relationship with Adidas. Athletic gear has influenced everything.

Still, when these sportswear companies step into the fashion ring, they often can’t resist bringing in a celebrity to add sizzle, whether it’s Rihanna at Puma or another Adidas co-conspirator, Kanye West. It’s easy money. But it’s really unnecessary.

In many ways, Wang is a celebrity, but he’s mostly a designer — one sensitive to the relationship between fashion and street style. And the funny thing about Wang’s take on Adidas is that he didn’t move the garments that far from their origins. What would be the point?

High fashion isn’t welcoming lowly streetwear into its rarefied world by giving it a luxury makeover. The balance long ago shifted. Fashion is coming down from its high perch to marvel at the allure of a sweatshirt.Cris Weer Photographer Designer Creative Director New York Berlin Hong Kong Guangzhou Shenzhen

Sneaker Brutal

Sneaker Brutal

The big, blunt lines of brutalism are dominating modern design. And now in everyday life, we find ourselves being gravitationally attracted to the presence of weight and bulk. This can be seen in our increasingly modular cars, that look forced rather than sculpted into existence, or in rough-hewn spaces like the new Tate Modern building where you can consume art safely within its bunker-like brickwork.
But beyond these snub-nosed hatchbacks and concrete monoliths, Alexander McQueen’s platform sneakers for men and women indicate how the same stripped-back supersizing loved by brutalists is inspiring shoes. Rooted in anti-romanticism, this is the label you would expect to see plumbing the depths of power in search of elegance. Platform sneakers are an established item for women, yet they still feel unexpected for men. This only adds to their appeal, of course. The historical irony is that youth culture’s legions of angry young men have spent decades stomping around in creepers, combat boots, and other ultra-masculine footwear defined by heavy-duty soles.
Alexander McQueen’s take on this motif is a shoe for moshing laced into the context of elegant lunchtime simplicity. The shoe pairs maxed-out proportions with the minimal styling of popular brands such as Common Projects and adidas Originals. The only concessions to decoration are one line of perforations, gold logos on the padded tongue, and a black heel panel. The sole here is the real star, stacked and widened to emphasize its rounded shape, bulking up a simple tennis silhouette with added height and muscle. It stamps creative director Sarah Burton’s authority on her predecessor’s legacy by showcasing her ability transform the brutal into something uncanny. Like she once told journalist Susannah Frankel, while discussing the doctrine for her designs after taking over at McQueen, “Empowerment and protection: Working here, you always have to bring it back to Alexander.”
Text: Ben Perdue

Hiroshi, Tinker, and Mark: How HTM Launched Nike Into the Future

They say three’s the magic number, and for Nike, the design collective of Hiroshi Fujiwara, Tinker Hatfield, and Mark Parker has been pushing the brand forward since its inception in 2002 under the sub-brand HTM.

The first project the trio—made up of a long-time Nike collaborator, the Vice President of Design and Special Projects, and the company’s CEO—created together was their own take on the Air Force 1. That idea might seem commonplace nowadays, but it was something new at the time. Fujiwara, Hatfield, and Parker would later go on to work on niche products such as the Air Moc Mid, Zoom Macropus, and Air Woven before introducing the breakout Flyknit to the world in 2012.

What differentiates the HTM projects from the rest of the trio’s work isn’t just the numbers in which it’s produced: It’s a subversive approach to sneaker design for the largest footwear brand in the world. There are times when Fujiwara, Hatfield, and Parker recreate older product, but their main focus is on crafting things for the future. A perfect example would be the Nike Sock Dart, which first released in 2004, only finding success when it re-released a decade later.

HTM was meant to be a meeting of the minds where the three guys could get together, put aside their regular work, and create something fresh that would be innovative for Nike. Their names alone can help sell the product, but that’s not the intention of HTM, since most of the sneakers made are done so in limited quantities. Instead, they’re here to change the way we look at shoes, even when they’re creating short runs of sneakers for the likes of Kobe Bryant, or hybrid footwear that defies categorization.

To get a better scope of how and why they work together, we spoke to Fujiwara and Hatfield, with quotes from Parker provided by Nike, about their design process and more.

In your words, what is HTM?
Mark Parker: HTM represents a few things for me. First, it’s a place to play and explore new concepts. I love design, so it’s important for me to have a creative outlet. In my role, I travel a lot and connect with a number of cultural influences. HTM is a way for me to put those experiences into something that can be shared with other people. I also just really enjoy the process of working with other talented, creative people. There’s great power in bringing diverse points of view together. It can be incredibly stimulating. We also have a lot of freedom to work without the expectations of commercializing something and, as a small team, we can execute incredibly fast.

More generally, HTM can be a source of inspiration for the broader design teams. At times, we have pushed the edges on new ideas for the company. We introduced woven—​which I think surprised a lot of people. We were at the forefront of using knit technology with the Sock Dart. And we introduced Flyknit technology with a pack of HTM shoes that really highlighted what the new process could do aesthetically.

What was the expectation when you started to work together?
Tinker Hatfield: It seemed like an opportunity to sub-brand exclusive and interesting products, kind of in lockstep with our Sportswear division, which was starting to really hum at the time. Some of the early projects for HTM were reinterpretations of preexisting designs. We have also done that more recently. But the conversations that I remember were about how the HTM sub-brand was an opportunity to introduce new ideas, not just re-issued and remade retros. That’s why we introduced Flyknit to the the world through the HTM sub-brand. It was a tidy, easy way to introduce a new technology. We expect to reinterpret some classics and do so in our own way, in a collaborative way, where we all might contribute to one project. More recently, we’ve taken that same approach, where Hiroshi has done a sneaker, Mark has done a sneaker, and I’ve done one, too. We also take a look at the latest technologies and decide the best way to introduce a new idea to the world is through this smaller, more intimate lens of HTM. That’s the way Flyknit got introduced and some other things. We’re open to a lot of different approaches to make things special and unique and more exclusive, but sometimes, maybe, we can do large numbers as well.

Whose idea was it to start HTM?
TH: I can tell you that I don’t remember if it was anyone’s specific idea. It possibly was Mark’s, because me and him would travel to Tokyo and we got to know Hiroshi. He was doing a lot of cool stuff there. He was an influencer and still is today. We all got along and it was fun to run around town with him. He showed us a lot of cool stuff. It seemed like we could all work together. Maybe it was mutual, or maybe it was Mark’s suggestion. I’m not certain.

Did you ever think it was going to become a buzzword associated with sneakers or did you just want to make cool stuff?
TH: I think the latter. We were going around some of the larger business decisions that are made at a company this size and making some more personal creative decisions apart from all of the big business. The three of us would get together and say, “Hey, let’s try this.” It’s quite liberating, and it’s a lot of fun. It was done to develop a mechanism for this creative introduction of ideas. We also thought there was an opportunity to create buzz in the market place, but I think it really boils down to wanting to new and different things and not to be so inhibited by your process. That’s the essence of it.
Hiroshi, what’s your exact involvement in the HTM project?
Hiroshi Fujiwara: My role is to make our ideas applicable to the worlds of street or fashion. Tinker comes up with innovative ideas and presents them with remarkable determination. Mark delivers the overall vision for the project, while still contributing his unique perspective as it relates to culture and design.

HTM shows that when independent minds collaborate, the results can be quite profound. We each are active in our fields. Tinker works on his own projects, Mark is busy running the company, and I get to do what I like as a freelancer. But when we come together, we’re able to create something that often has great influence.

How has HTM changed over the years, if any at all?
HF: When I met Mark for the first or second time, before he became the CEO, he asked me, “If you were to do something with Nike, what would it be?” I answered that I wanted to help elevate certain models. I thought it would be nice to have a program where we could customize and update shoes, rather than just changing colors.

At the beginning, HTM became an opportunity to add a sense of luxury to sneakers, starting with that Air Force 1. There were not so many Air Force 1 collaborations before the first HTM shoe. Also, this was a time when luxury sneakers were not so common. These days, rather than updating what has already been around, HTM is more about releasing new ideas for the first time.

What do you recall about the first HTM shoe, the Nike HTM Air Force 1?
MP: As I recall, we wanted to take a classic icon and make it absolutely stunning. With HTM, there aren’t really any constraints. We can use the best materials at our disposal because we’re not usually creating something that’s produced in great numbers. So for the Air Force 1, we wanted to make a premium version by using incredibly high-end leather. And instead of athletic color blocking, we emphasized the classic lines of the shoe with contrast stitching.
You guys recently have done a handful of Kobe Bryant sneakers. Is there a reason why you decided to work with Kobe and not LeBron James or Kevin Durant?
TH: We look across the landscape at Nike, and there are so many projects with so many athletes, but sometimes people pop up and it seems appropriate. Kobe is someone that we’ve all met. I’ve worked with Kobe and Mark Parker knows him quite well. It seemed like if you were to add another letter into the “HTM” with a K on the end, he would fit right in, because he has a lot of good ideas himself. So it seemed to be a natural extension of the HTM sub-brand to do something for an athlete. He had a unique way to look at how we introduce products. Kobe’s great. He’s so cool to work with, he’s such a smart guy, he’s very stylish, thinks about everything, gives us time—all the things you want in a design partner.

Does he ever give you critiques or feedback on the HTM versions of his signature shoe?
TH: Yeah, I know he got a close look at the three different pairs of the shoe. I didn’t sit down with him on my shoe, but it’s OK because we talk on the phone. The reality is that he’s very involved, he’s like Michael Jordan in that way: He wants to be involved, he likes design, and he’s one of those athletes that will give you time. He’s quite involved in everything that’s associated with him.

Hiroshi, what’s the biggest difference between doing fragment and HTM?
HF: HTM is more about releasing new ideas for the first time. With HTM, I get visibility into Mark and Tinker’s ideas, thoughts and inspirations from different moments and times, including those of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. So it’s a fascinating project. It’s also quite powerful. We have the freedom to push forward whatever we are interested in. Once we decide to do something, we can start moving right away.
The Sock Dart was re-released in the past couple years. A lot of people would say that it was ahead of its time when you designed it over a decade ago, Tinker. Did you ever think it would take 10 years for it to become a big thing?
TH: I was disappointed when the brand didn’t get behind that shoe very much. Part of the problem was that it was so different. It was difficult for a lot of people to recognize it as a new idea. I was bummed that we only made a few thousand pairs. They sold and then the project went away for awhile. Yet, what’s great about Nike is that that someone else took the mantle of knitting and built off the foundation of the Sock Dart, and we ended up with Flyknit. That opened up the door for the Sock Dart to come back out, because people are now open minded about shoes that are built completely differently and have a different feel and look. We all have to wait for our time in the sun, and that particular shoe had a 10-year wait.

When you’re creating these offbeat projects, do you think you’re taking a gamble if the public is to going receive them in a positive way?
TH: For me, I think everything is going to work great. I’m like an idea machine, and the other people are like me and come up with ideas to do the same thing. We’re always pushing to do the unexpected, the new, and the different. If we were the only decision makers in this company, it probably would have gone out of business 20 years ago [laughs]. There are people who are more conservative about what they do, and what makes Nike, or any other successful company, great is the balance. So I’m pushing, and there are other people who are pushing in our advanced design group and other categories, then there are other folks who are saying, “Whoa, slow down. How can we sell something that no one understands or is too different?” There’s a balance we’re trying to strike as a company, and I get a little disappointed that people don’t always see it my way. But, on the other hand, I’ve had a few successes as well getting some things through. We have to roll with those punches. In the end, it’s working nicely, I’d say.
In 2012, Nike introduced Flyknit through HTM. What are your memories of that project?
MP: We could see the amazing potential right away. It was clear that we were rewriting the rules of performance engineering. When we saw the leap that could be made by using Flyknit instead of cut and sew, it was like comparing airbrush to collage. It’s so precise. Now we could micro-engineer whatever solution we wanted—support, flexibility, or breathability—​by manipulating both the yarns and the stitch patterns.

In 2012, we delivered the first performance HTM product—the Flyknit Racer—and it made the podium in its first test at the U.S. Olympic Trials marathon. It was the beginning of an innovation that has transformed our whole company, and what’s so exciting is that, even now, we are just starting to uncover the infinite possibilities of Flyknit.

Last year you guys did the MTM Air Jordan 1, did you ever think you were going to do an HTM Jordan?
TH: It’s a separate thing, but the idea of a sub-brand is the same. This one might have been my idea, and I remember talking to Mark Parker and saying, “Hey, we can invite other people into our sub-brand.” And who better to invite into your sub-brand than Michael Jordan? We changed the letters a little bit, made it MTM, and invited Michael into the process. He got to see how we operate as a sub-section of Nike and Jordan Brand. It worked out great and Michael loved the project, he loved being a part of it. So we might do that again, we don’t really want to tip our hat about how we’re going to do these things. I think part of the fun of it is to keep people guessing a little bit, and maybe we’ll do an Obama “MTO” [laughs]. We’re open for other collaborators and making decisions amongst a small group of people and using ideas from those same people. There could be more fun stuff to come.

Ask Your Favorite Models: Is It Chic to Be a Sneakerhead?

Ask Your Favorite Models: Is It Chic to Be a Sneakerhead?

Dylan Xue, Supreme: “I always loved Jordans—from the Jordan 5s, 7s, and especially my favorite, the Jordan 11s. I feel sneakers are so slick and street but still underground. Especially since growing up in China meant wearing uniforms to school, one of the few ways you could express yourself was with your kicks.”