On Adidas Sambas

Adidas Sambas are not a new shoe. The shoe was first produced in 1949, and first hit my closet around 1999 when I was a want-to-be soccer star (a dream that did not come to fruition - although I did get mistaken for Alex Morgan at one of my first Fashion Week parties - a story for another time).

When Sambas started to re-hit the scene and gain mainstream popularity (again) in 2022, I started to see them everywhere I went. On every influencer I followed, on every street corner of Brooklyn, there they were. The new-not-new ‘it-girl’ shoe. I decided unlike my childhood/teenage years, this time around they weren’t for me.

I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘sneakerhead’ — my love for shoes is non-inclusive. Living in a walkable city, however, comfortable shoes are a necessity for weekends or as ‘commuter-shoes’ in order to not get blisters. I’ve been a long-term Birkenstock fan, Uggs have come and gone from my closet, I’ve recently purchased one-too-many New Balance variations, but other than that I wouldn’t consider myself to have a loyalty to any brand of sneaker or shoe.

Adidas Sambas became a test. I didn’t love the shoes at first, and definitely didn’t need the shoes — but I couldn’t avoid seeing them everywhere I went. I said to myself “I do not need this shoe - I have multiple variations already of a casual sneaker (Reebok Club C 85 Vintage, New Balance 550s, etc). There is nothing this sneaker can do that your others can not.”

But there was something this sneaker could do — become a symbol of status. Not necessarily status in the sense they were priced out-of-reach, but status in the sense that it signifies to other people “I’m on trend; I’m in the know; I’m a cool girl.”

I held off until I finally convinced myself I needed them. That the other casual sneakers I had couldn’t do what these sneakers could - they had become, in my mind, a necessary “casual, but could be dressed up if needed casual” shoe. My Reeboks and New Balances could never do what Adidas Sambas could, according to every influencer on my Instagram feed or TikTok algorithm.

So I caved, and I bought them. I bought them, and tried them on, and still had doubts, but I kept them. The day they arrived I wore them to drinks and a movie with a friend who also showed up in them — and I officially belonged. The shoes transformed me into being just as effortlessly put together as she and every other girl I passed on the sidewalk or scrolled through my feed looked like — at least in my mind.

Why do I attribute the Adidas Sambas to this blog? Because it was an item that, for over a year, I knew in my heart I didn’t need, but with enough marketing both in-person and online thrown in my face, I was influenced to buy them. It made me feel like I had gone back on everything I told myself I believed in, yet I still purchased them, and wore them, and have convinced myself I love. Will the happiness these sneakers bring me be fleeting? Most likely. The trend will fade as trends do, and so will these sneakers when the next style replaces them.

It’s not just these sneakers, this progression of not wanting to to buy to buying an item has happened with multiple items in my closet. Amongst all my ‘influenced’ purchases, these sneakers stick out in my mind the most. Possibly because this trend hit the scene around the same time my overconsumption guilt and questioning started, possibly not. However, the second I was searching for them in a size 8 Women’s online, I knew consumerism and social influence in regards to fashion had a choke-hold on me — hence why it inspired this blog and the need to slowly break free from this pattern of consumerism.