Chapter Twelve - Fashion Kills Function

CHAPTER TWELVE

Fashion Kills Function

ONCE UPON A time, sneakers were for sweating.

They were built for speed, support, and sport. You wore them to train, to compete, to play. They had one job: help you move.

Then came Nike.

And Nike said: What if shoes weren’t just gear?
What if they were status?
What if they were art?

By the late ’90s, the lines were already blurring. Kids were wearing Jordans who had never picked up a basketball. People were buying Air Maxes for the visible bubbles, not the running specs. Sneakers were slipping out of gyms and onto sidewalks.

Nike didn’t resist it.

They accelerated it.

They dropped limited editions. Collabs. Colorways. City packs. Artist partnerships. They turned footwear into collectibles and sneakerheads into loyal cultists who knew release dates like birthdays.

And then came the real shift:

Luxury.

Suddenly, sneakers were showing up on red carpets. High fashion brands like Gucci, Balenciaga, and Louis Vuitton started releasing $1,000 shoes that looked like space debris.

But Nike? Nike beat them there.

They partnered with Off-White. Sacai. Comme des Garçons. Fear of God. They took streetwear and runway and fused them into something new: hypewear.

It wasn’t just about style. It was about exclusivity. Drops were limited. Bots were everywhere. Resale prices hit the moon.

And function?

Function died quietly in the background.

The point wasn’t performance anymore.

The point was perception.

Owning the right pair said more than running a mile. It said you were early. Connected. Culturally fluent. And Nike knew exactly how to feed the addiction.

Apps with countdowns. Geo-locked drops. “SNKRS” Ls as a badge of honor. Losing became part of the game. The myth grew. The prices climbed. And the swoosh? It got shinier.

Because Nike had stopped selling shoes.

Now it was selling a lifestyle.

Not movement.
Mood.