Sneakerheads Share Their Best Back to School Memories

Back to school sparks memories for all of us: shopping sprees for fresh pencils and Composition notebooks, saying goodbye to summer girlfriends, feeling nervous for the start of classes, etc. It's the most anticipated (and dreaded) transition for students, but for sneakerheads, the new semester also represents an incredible opportunity: the chance to set the tone for the year by impressing your classmates with a dope pair of shoes. The importance of this moment, whether actual or imagined, cannot be overstated and is rightfully the source of plenty of anxiety. Some years, it's an unadulterated win with a high that rides all semester-long, but others the day winds up being another stumble on the embarrassing road of adolescence.

To ease a bit of the first day tension, we've collected stories from prominent members of the sneaker industry about what going back to school was like for them. For Jeff Staple, his first days inspired his career in sneakers. For Buddy Teaster, CEO of Soles4Souls, they were the perfect opportunities to satisfy real needs. For DJ Clark Kent, they signified a very real experience of earning his own way.

No first day back to school ever quite lives up to how we imagine it (good or bad), but as these stories demonstrate, that’s a universal experience.

Profession: DJ, sneaker writer/historian

I didn't grow up with much funds, so I never went shopping this time of the year. I pretty much wore my brother's hand-me-downs in grade school. When I played for Lower Merion H.S., the same alma mater as Kobe Bryant (I was there 12 years before him, though), we used to get a team discount. In '83-'84, we all got the new Nike Air Force 1s with the nylon mesh (original release), but that wasn't until the winter. I wasn't "fresh" back then. That happened once I started working for Def Jam in 1989 and finally had money. I was never jealous of kids being fresh. I just didn't have funds in school and was fine with that.

Profession: Designer at Jordan Brand

My mom spray-painted my tennis shoes black for the marching band. I'm still embarrassed and embarrassed that I was in marching band. I've been teased endlessly about it. I played the tuba, but I could barely carry and blow it. I actually grew up playing the French horn, but once I got to high school and had to do marching band, they asked if I could play the tuba. I guess it's pretty funny.

Profession: Sneaker customizer

When I was a kid, I lived in a trailer with my parents and used to wear the Voits, Spaldings, and all those things. We weren’t broke, but we didn’t have a lot of money. To have my mom spend a hundred bucks on a pair… no. I wanted to have that little feeling of acceptance and feel like I was alright. I just decided I wanted to get a pair of Air Jordans, so all summer I mowed lawns, any old lady’s lawn for $5. I mowed lawns all summer to save money to get my own pair of sneakers. At that time, there were no numbers. It was just whatever Jordan was out, so I rolled up to JCPenney thinking I was going to buy the IVs and ended up getting the black and silver Vs instead. That was the first pair of shoes I ever bought with my own money.

Going to school, the trailer park kids were waiting at the bus stop and I had these spiffy Jordans on and everybody’s like, “Whoa, he’s got new Jordans!” The rest of my outfit was straight up Sears' husky section, Lee Jeans, and whatever. I wore those sneakers into the ground. Obviously, when you first get them, your mom makes you put on your play shoes when you first get home. That lasted for about a week, because I went to recess and messed them up. Just destroyed them. It was kind of the catalyst for my addiction and appreciation for footwear now.

Profession: Brand ambassador, marketing/consulting

I always tell the story about growing up when I thought I was the flyest kid in America. My mother bought me a pair of sneakers called the Mark 5, and, of course, my name is Mark (Farese). I was probably 10 years old? I really can’t recall the age, but I’m going to say I was 10 years old, and my mother bought me a pair of Mark 5s. I thought I was the hottest kid in the street because my name was on the shoes. And I got back, and they laughed me completely off the block. They were like, “Oh, those cost $1.99.” I vowed that would never happen again.

Whatever I did after that, whether I was sweeping floors at the barbershop or stealing money from my grandfather, I would save up money to buy sneakers and vowed that would never happen again. 3,000 pairs of sneakers later, everybody reaches out to me like I’m the plug now. I had to wear them, I got my a** whipped for trying not to wear them, and it took a lot of begging and pleading to my grandfather (and sweeping floors at the barbershop) to buy a pair of Puma Clydes or ProKeds. It had to be one of the two, because that’s all I was getting back in ’82.

Profession: Founder, Staple Design

It’s the reason why I really became a sneakerhead. It dates back to the sixth grade and it’s when the Air Jordan III first came out. Prior to the III, I had bought the 1s and the IIs, but I didn’t covet them like some fetish thing. I bought them because I loved basketball and Jordan, and I played in the gymnasium with those shoes on. The IIIs were like a whole different animal because of the design and the way they looked and everything. It really was a transformational sneaker design.

I remember when I wore them for the first day, I went into my sixth grade social studies class and I was a little bit late. Probably 5-10 minutes late. I went to this public school where it was over capacity, and they had RVs parked out in the field, and classes were held in these weird RV things. So they had just moved my classroom to a room in an RV, and I was running around looking for this RV. I grew up in Jersey, and there was this weird trend where you would buy these slouchy white socks—if you can imagine baggy socks with the elastic pulled out of it—and then you would tightly cuff your ankle. You’d fold and roll your ankle jeans so they were really tight at the bottom (essentially making a jogger is what you were doing, pinroll 101), and then the slouchy socks would go over that. And then the Jordans were crisp and that was the look. I don’t know why. My whole pant shape pointed down to the shoe.

So I walk in and everyone’s already in class, and the teacher’s already there. Everyone looks at me because I’m late, and they all simultaneously snap their necks down. I basically snapped thirty necks, including the teacher. They just all looked at me and then looked at my shoes and that feeling was like unforgettable and unbelievable. I always try to recreate that feeling to this day. And it’s crazy that now 30-some-odd years later, the feeling of breaking a neck because of what you have on your feet is irreplaceable.

Profession: Sneaker personality and designer of John Geiger Collection

I can't remember if it was in forth or fifth grade, but my mom got me a fresh pair of all white Air Force One Mids, and I remember everyone saying they were doing the same. I was always the type to do something different to my shoes, so I took a Sharpie right to them and added nicknames and cool pictures. I was hyped to wear them. We lived in Bloomfield, in Pittsburgh, at the time, and my father and I actually shared a room and bunk beds. I’m not afraid to say it now. But that day, I put the shoes by the window to dry them with the sun. Before bed, my dad asked what I was going to wear the next day, so I showed him my fit and put the shoes on. To my surprise, they were a size too big and must have gotten put in the wrong box. I was sick. Luckily, my dad was going to surprise me, and I ended up wearing the Nike Rodmans (Nike Air Shake Ndestrukt) the first day instead. They were white and navy blue, [with laces] tied down the side.

Profession: CEO of Soles4Souls

Back to school is a big time for us. In Marble Falls, Tex., this woman Grace is a grandmother raising five of her grandchildren, and she works but doesn’t make a lot of money. I think school supplies on average were $72 per kid, but she didn’t have that kind of money. In early August (this is in Texas we’re talking about), she lined up at 6 in the morning to be sure she got in line for an event that started at 10. They served 3,000 people. We had about 1,000 pairs of shoes, so we didn’t have enough for everybody, which was heartbreaking in itself. But they were also getting backpacks and other kinds of school supplies, it wasn't just shoes. But you don’t know that part of Texas. It ain’t like Manhattan where you can swing a stick and get 3,000 people lined up. It was 100-plus degrees, and she brought her lawn chair like she was buying tickets to the Rolling Stones. Brought a lawn chair to get in line and waited without a complaint because she couldn’t afford shoes for her grandkids. But they got them that day, just in time to go back to school.

Profession: DJ, producer

My experience with getting new sneakers for school was never an experience, because I never got new sneakers for school. The first time I can actually say that I did, I had to buy myself a pair. I was around 9 years old, and it was my second pair of name brand sneakers ever. My first pair came from my uncle, who bought me a pair of ProKeds, and I felt like the world had just begun spinning. But school was coming and my ProKeds, that I thought were life-changing automatically, were the worst looking sneakers in the universe, so I wanted a new pair of shoes to go to school. When my uncle bought those ProKeds, I felt like I was actually a human being on my block because all of the older guys wore the exact same sneakers I had. Now going back to school, I needed a new pair. So I moved newspapers out of the neighbor’s basement until I moved enough newspapers to get $10. He paid me and my cousin Mark to move newspapers, but I actually think he didn’t want the newspaper moved. He was just trying to give us something to do instead of robbing and stealing.

With that $10, I took 50 cents, got on the 46 bus, went to Glenwood Flea Market, bought a $9 pair of irregular ProKeds, and risked my life getting back home. I wore those sneakers like they were the only thing made to wear on your feet. They weren’t just a crown, they were the crown, throne, and robe. They were everything. They were everything to me because 1) I paid for them, and 2) No one could tell me nothing because I had the same shoes the older guys around my way had on, and it was the first day of school and I felt like the man. And then weeks later I turned 10, so it was all good.

Profession: Co-owner of Extra Butter

When the Air Max 98s came out, it was mid summer and I was going to sleepaway camp upstate. A lot of my coming-of-age fashion sense was highly influenced by camp counselors. One of the new camp director’s sons showed up one day in Air Max 98s. They were light blue and volt, and I just thought they were the sickest thing.

I got home at the end of the summer and was like, “Mom, I need those shoes. I NEED those shoes.” And that was the only time I ever nagged my parents for sneakers. But that year, I knew that sneaker was going to put me on the map for middle school.

My parents used to always take me shopping on Broadway, usually V.I.M. or David Z., and we went into V.I.M. All the sneakers were in the basement, and I found them on the wall and was like, “Mom, puleeease. I need to have them.” They were $120 and my dad flipped. I already knew the routine. My mom was going to have to be my lawyer and talk, and I just played dumb and was like, “Oh, what’s that over there?” then walk away and let them debate. I finally got it and couldn’t believe it. I felt like the coolest kid.

Within the first week of school, when you have your physical education tests, we were running around in the gym, and I sat down and realized there was a thumbtack in the bottom of my shoe. For some reason I pull it out and all of the sudden I hear the air coming out of this thing, and I’m like, “OH MY GOD!” I panicked and stuck it right back in. My friend saw the whole thing happen and he was mortified. He’s like, “You’re living with that thumbtack in your shoe for the next year. You, my friend, are living with that thumbtack.” So I was walking around, and it was especially funny during gym class because you’d hear the thumbtack, and you would hear, “clack, clack, clack, clack.” I just lived with it.

I remember there were rumors at the time that if you ever burst the bubble, you could send it back to Nike and they’d give you a new pair. And I remember my uncle convinced my mom to call Nike Customer Service. My mom was like, “My son stepped on a thumbtack” and the lady was like, “We can’t reimburse you for that.” At some point, I noticed that the Air slowly started leaking out, so I had a left foot that was just a mushed Air bubble. It went from Air Max to Air Minimum, and my dad would look at it and be like, “This was the worst investment I’ve ever made in my life.” I was so bummed out. I think that’s probably why I have a thing against Air Max 97s and 98s now.

Profession: Co-owner of Extra Butter

It was third grade and my shoe to show off was Hakeem Olajuwon’s LA Gear—so a little funny and a little embarrassing. Going back to school was when I realized sneakers really mattered. My first day on the bus, the bus picks us up. We’re on the bus and everyone’s feet should be behind another seat pointing the same way, but this guy is sitting with his feet in the aisle. He’s wearing "Black/Cement" [Air Jordan] IVs. There are no empty seats ahead of him, so I sit in the back because I’m one of the last stops, which means I have to climb over his shoes. He speaks to me and my neighbor as we’re coming down the aisle and without looking at us says, “Don’t be steppin’ on my sneakas or we be fightin’.” I wanted to be like, “I can’t get around you!” and, “Is it that important?” But then I realize it is that important. From that point, I started asking questions. I learned the Jordan IV is a status symbol and that people would fight me for them (or if I stepped on their pair).

Profession: Co-owner of Rise

It was probably '97 or '98. I guess I was 13 or 14 years old. I went to Jimmy Jazz and walked out with five or six of those big bags. I was growing up back and forth between Queens and Long Island, and you never want to be too flashy when you're moving around like that on the street. I was really into Puma Suedes. The red, black, and grey ones were definitely in those bags. There were also some Reebok Pumps and a few colors of Adidas Gazelles in there, too. I’ll never forget the feeling I had that day because it was the first time that growing up poor didn't matter anymore. I had cash to spend on whatever I wanted. It was the first time in my life that I felt materialistically happy.

Profession: VP of Content Strategy, Complex

I was fortunate that my parents bought into the idea that having good sneakers for the first day of school was important. I may not have had the best sneakers from November to June, but my parents always hooked it up for early September. While I’m sure some years were better than others, it was sixth grade when I reached peak first day of school stunting. It was the Silver Air Max 97s. I was making the jump from elementary school to middle school, and convinced my parents that buying me these would help settle the first day of school jitters. I remember my best friends were three brothers: Adam, Jay, and Christian Velazquez. While I was closer with the two younger siblings, Christian was the O.G. everyone was trying to impress. And that first day of school he showed up with the same Air Max 97s. Out of all the years I got new sneakers, 1997 was the year that stuck out to me the most. To vividly remember how cool a heralded pair of sneakers was when they first came out is a really cool feeling.

Profession: Partner and co-owner of PONY

It was 2001, and I was 14 selling shoes out of the shop during the weekends over the summer. I remember going back to school when the "Bred" Jordan 1 2001 versions came out. It was the end of August, right at back to school when they dropped. I don’t remember how many units [we had] or how fast they sold, but, bro, we blew out of them. It was the fastest-selling shoe I’d ever seen in my life. And I don’t even know how many Air Force 1s sold that year, but that was my first introduction to the sneaker game and Jordans and all that.

On the release date, we had a reservation list that we set up basically for the homies that came through the shop. My cousins, the floor managers, the salespeople, and everyone were so happy they were getting hooked up. It was just awesome. That was a very vivid memory that got me onto Nike and the Jordan Brand. And still to this day, really the only Jordan I mess with is the 1. They re-released this year, and it’s just straight nostalgia. That memory I had is the first time I saw the power of what sneakers could do and my interest went through the roof. I got hooked. It was just incredible.

Profession: NBA Hall of Famer

I just always wanted to have a pair of Jordans or Air Force 1s before I got with Reebok. I don’t know why. I know my dad had something to do with that.

Profession: Sneaker personality and YouTuber

For me, back to school was never a way to “get fresh” because it was mainly second hand stuff either from my cousins or Salvation Army. When I was 12, 13, and 14, if I was lucky, I would get a pair of shoes from Marshalls that were two sizes too big because my mom would always hit me with the infamous, “You’re growing so fast, you’ll grow into them.” So I had a size 13 when I was legitimately a 10, and I’d walk around with these canoes on my feet. And on top of that, it was never anything fresh. They were like a pair of Spaldings.

But what that taught me was, and I know this is super cliché but it really is true: It’s not what you rock; It’s how you rock it. Of course, everyone has seen the guys in designer everything or they have some exclusive LeBron PE on, but they still look like a stiff. Then there can be another guy who’s pretty much got whatever on, but the way he rocks it and the way he carries himself is just so cool. I learned pretty early that you just had to be saucy regardless of what you had on. Even though my stuff wasn’t cool, so to speak, I was cool.

Profession: Writer

Middle school was socially challenging for me. I tried wearing certain clothes to fit in, which ended up being a problem at my school. I was bullied and name-called relentlessly for a handful of reasons, but what stung the most was being called a "poser." This was the dirtiest slur at my school, and you didn’t want to be called that. Because of those formative years, I still examine every social or stylistic impulse to ensure it's authentic and not driven exclusively by trends and hype. But years after middle school, when I started going to high school in a different state, I was still obsessive about avoiding any possibility of catching that moniker.

I was big into Limp Bizkit at the time and needed a pair of Superstars (can you imagine buying shell toes because of Fred Durst and not Jay Z?), and I got them. But I couldn't tip my hand and let people know that these were new and I was just experimenting with the style. So one night, before I packed up and left for college, I went into the backyard and dug a hole. I grabbed handfuls of dirt and rubbed it into the blindingly white leather of the new shoes. A rinse and buff from a hand towel made the new patina look authentic enough, and I was able to wear them without anyone knowing it was my first time doing so.

The behavior makes me cringe now, but I doubt I'd do anything differently. Today, I try new styles out all the time, but rather than falsely wearing them in ahead of time, I rock with zero apologies and figure anyone who is worried about what I'm doing stylistically is just escaping their own demons.