I wear Supreme, but don’t skate. The only time I think about copping signature basketball sneakers is during All-Star weekend and Christmas. I only own collaboration ASICS and New Balances. And my eyes light up when I see labels like QS, SP, and HTM.
Does that make me a hypebeast? Maybe. Do I care? Not one bit.
I first discovered the whole concept of the term hypebeast in 2006. I was searching the ‘net for all-over print Bape hoodies and Dunks—the original hypebeast's uniform, if you will—and a Google search led me to the site, Hypebeast.com. Back then, it was simple blog and a forum for sneakerheads and streetwear enthusiasts. The term hadn't yet transformed into the complicated concept it would eventually become.
The sneaker world's a small one, and the hypebeast stigma only hurts the culture.
In those days, it was simple—you were a hypebeast if you liked sneakers and clothes that were, well, hyped. There wasn’t really a negative connotation around this either. If you were a hypebeast, it meant you associated with streetwear and sneaker culture. And for teens and college kids who wanted something to latch on to—a subculture to be a part of—this was everything. Being a hypebeast meant being part of the counterculture, one that traded mass-produced crap sold at the mall for independent boutiques and small up-and-coming brands.
But that was eight years ago. Sneaker culture has changed. Streetwear has changed. And even hypebeast, the website, has dramatically changed. Styles and trends have shifted and what was once this niche subculture that scoffed at the idea of mainstream has become the norm.
So what does it mean to be a hypebeast in 2014?
These days, you’re a hypebeast if you line up for sneakers. You’re a hypebeast if you only pay attention to collaborations. You’re a hypebeast if you don’t care about the proper shape of a silhouette. You’re a hypebeast if you like Kanye West. And you best believe you’re a hypebeast if you own a pair of retro Js but never saw the G.O.A.T. tear it up on the hardwood during his prime.
You can be labeled a hypebeast for pretty much anything these days. The better question might be: what doesn't make you a hypebeast these days? Is it knowing the entire history behind a brand you’re wearing? Reciting Michael Jordan’s stats before dropping $200 on retros? Or maybe it’s being able to do a kickflip while you wait in line at your local skate shop for Tiffany Dunks?
The term hypebeast gets thrown around so loosely that its completely lost all meaning. The worst part about it? The ones throwing around the term probably are—or once were—hypebeasts themselves. Pot, meet kettle.
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Let’s face it: if it weren’t for everyone’s thirsty hypebeast ways, most of us twentysomethings wouldn’t be in the game right now. Myself included.
I only started to buy ASICS because of Ronnie Fieg, but quickly gained an appreciation for the brand and aesthetic of the models. Chalk that up to being a hypebeast.
I only got into Supreme because of its Nike collabs, but learned more about the rich history of its NYC skateboarding roots. Chalk that up to being a hypebeast.
I only started paying attention to Visvim, Common Projects, and Balenciaga because of Kanye West, but started to open my eyes to a world of other sneakers beyond the Swoosh. Chalk that up to being a hypebeast.
The sneaker world's a small one, and the hypebeast stigma only hurts the culture. Instantly labeling someone a hypebeast if they don't meet a ridiculous set of standards or unwritten rules isn't a progressive way of thinking. If someone wants to try something new or go out of their comfort zone, they shouldn’t be subject to judgment.
The point is: if you like it, go ahead and buy it. No matter what it is that influenced you.
And if that makes me a hypebeast, so be it.
John Q. Marcelo is a contributing writer to Complex and hopes all-overprint hoodies and SB Dunks make a comeback. You can follow him on Twitter here.
