How true sneakerheads get their kicks

Typically, the prologue begins with a child’s face pressed up against a store window, flanked by sticky fingers staining the glass that separates them from the Nike Flyknit Air Max sneaker display. The multitude of colour compels. Aspiration meets desperation as the child begins plotting how he’s going to get what he can’t have. His mother beckons for him to keep up; she has neither the time nor the money for such a distraction.

For the six nike air max 2014 sneaker collectors who are gathered at Sussex Studios in Woodstock, one of Cape Town’s urban renewal zones, a version of this story would resonate with how collecting started for each of them. Except for rocking dope sneakers to accent any given day’s attire, the guys are pretty normal. By day they hold several different job titles. But in their spare moments and whenever they can find the time, they search online for the next footwear release. Conversations centre on who’s got which pair. Some of the guys are good friends; others are new to the fold. Still, they all share the common denominator of being a collector.

Eric Leeson (29), a financial planner from Kensington in Cape Town, calls himself a nike air max 90 sale fanatic. He’s a family man who’s already started collecting for his sons; the youngest was born just last year.

This owner of 110 pairs of sneakers worth more than R130000 says, for him, sneaker culture stemmed from hardship. Growing up, you only got the things you needed. “I honestly had three pairs: school nike air force 1 shoes, a pair for PT [physical training], a pair I went out with – and that was it.
“When I grew up, my mother was buying cheap shoes. I got my first pair of nike air max uk on my 13th birthday. But I couldn’t keep them. Your cousin didn’t have shoes, so you handed them down to him and he handed them down to his cousin. Eventually they’d have their last walk and get thrown in the bin.”