Sole Nation by Natalie Chui

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Editor’s letter

ole Nation was born out of a lifelong love for shoes. This is a platform for exciting new footwear talents and a publication that’s focused solely on shoes for millennials. We are a generation that consumes, collects and adores shoes. No one knows what a millennial is, but you can tell who we are by looking at the shoes we’ve got on.

Every footwear designer featured has challenged traditional notions and are making their own mark with their shoes. Stylish footwear is no longer limited to stilettos and now we are choosing to wear flatter, more practical shoes. Gone are the days in which uncomfortable five- inch stilettos were compulsively worn. In its place are shoes that go from school buildings to underground basements. There’s a generation shift towards sneakers, mules and lower block heels that allow for comfort and easy versatility. A younger generation is rejecting the idea that heels are the epitome of style. Sole Nation sets out to celebrate a new wave of footwear designers. At its heart, it’s about the sentiment of shoes in our lives. Natalie Chui

Editor Natalie Chui Art Director Nicole Chui Sub editor Kate McCusker Special Thanks Judith Watt, Clare Coulson, Frederik Burlage, Cath Caldwell, Balwant Ahira, Wendy Huynh, Nick Chan, Jordan Henry, Tak Mandi group, my mum, dad and sisters, my grandparents, Print Box and lastly all the incredible footwear designers and contributors. @solenationmag

Contents Adidas to the rescue

Frankenstein sneakers 8 Crimes against shoemanity

Stomping out the blaze

Made in China

Fuck you heels

Weaving heritage

Put your best foot forward

We kick back

A walk on the flat side

Glossary

Shoes on cover page by Fayette Ma. Shoes on inside page by Dianne Park. Shoes across by Carmen Channers Shoes on back cover by Helen Kirkum. Photography by Wendy Huynh Styling by Nick Chan Model Davinya Cooper

Adidas to the rescue A story of how one pair of sneakers killed my obsession with stilettos

Adidas set me free -- rather, Adidas set my feet free from a lifetime of constriction. Despite being surrounded by the brandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stores all my life, it took me 17 years to finally own a pair.

Captured at the age of five running around with my VelcroÂŽ Adidas sneakers. Photo by David Chui. Four years on, my Adidas shoes are still sturdy and strong as ever. Artwork by @j_suede

My great great grandmother bound her feet with cloth in order to prevent it from naturally growing bigger.

s Run DMC famously rapped, my Adidas have walked me everywhere. Like into my first day at Saint Martins. I will always remember walking in to a strange, unknown building with my nervous and agitated feet wrapped inside my Adidas sneakers. I left that day known as the ‘girl with the amazing shoes’. My first memory of sneakers came from primary school P.E. At five years old, I distinctly remember having two pairs of shoes for school. One was a pair of chunky black buckled Mary Jane shoes that were always worn in conjunction with my white peter-pan collar and green pinafore. These were my ‘school’ shoes. They fulfilled the quintessential primary school shoe requirements; perpetually on sale, toe pinching, and utterly boring. P.E was the exception, as another pair of shoes was required. My primary school even had a rule where if you didn’t have your ‘P.E’ shoes, you weren’t allowed in the class. This time round, a pair of quilted white Adidas sneakers were on my feet. I spotted them sitting in the window of a sports store on an outing with my mother and to my surprise, she bought them for me on account of my needing P.E shoes. The sneaker was sturdy in structure and for the first time, these were shoes that felt light on my feet. Every week I would treasure the moment when I would slip into these sneakers and bounce around to my heart’s delight on the football pitch.

“Constrictive footwear has been recurrent throughout my family history”

My great great grandmother had bound feet -- a painful procedure that happens throughout ancient Chinese society involving the feet being physically

broken to be restructured smaller. This was done because small feet were considered the epitome of class and a status symbol of high society. Although they were seen as attractive figures, these women could barely walk and were often confined to sitting around the house, fulfilling the duties of a wife. My mother recalls memories when as a child she would spend time with her. “I remember looking at her feet one night and said to her ‘you are so old and I am so young, but why are your feet smaller than mine?’ she says. “She never told me about the process or pain she suffered.” My great grandmother also had bound feet; but once her family migrated from China to Malaysia, she was finally able to rid the foot binding cloths and work freely with her feet. A year later, I finally met my Adidas sneakers. They weren’t entirely Adidas. They were in fact, from a collaboration line between the German-sportswear brand and Rick Owens. I saw them one summer day in a department store seated away from their sandalled sisters. They were so large a stiletto might have been engulfed inside them. The sneakers were white, in contrast to all my black heels, and characterized by two isolated cylindrical soles. What drew me to them were the criss-cross laces; which held up in a square shape. Having them on my feet opened my eyes to a realm of shoes that were stylish and completely wearable. When I slid my feet inside them, I imagined wearing them out of the doors of my high school and into my new life in London. The price tag was hefty. However, the feeling of freedom on my feet was worth the investment. It was the first designer splurge I made and it was two years of babysitting money gone in an instant. But once I put those sneakers on, my desire for the stilettos of my teenage years vanished.

helen kirkum

Frankenstein sneakers Meet Helen Kirkum, the footwear artist breathing new life into dead trainers by dismantling them and putting them back together

mong sneaker lovers, to dissect and tear apart a sneaker is considered almost a sacrilegious act but that’s exactly what Helen Kirkum is doing. She cuts up old sneakers that have been thrown away and stitches them together with the other parts of the shoe– a process that seems deceptively easy. The end result is a lovingly hand crafted mismatched shoe that is completely unlike anything you will find in any sport shop. She’s purposely creating Frankenstein sneakers and it’s just what sneaker culture needs. Kirkum greets me in her East London studio where she spends the entirety of her design process— from the initial sketching to the final testing. The basis of all her shoes is discarded sneakers, supplied to her from London-based recycling centres. In addition she also receives several donations from charity shops and relatives. “When you see a trainer on a shelf in JD Sports, it’s so white and pristine and I was interested in how that could be something else,” says the designer. The idea behind her shoes came to her upon discovery that if donated sneakers aren’t laced together, the shoes cannot be sold in stores. This results in hundreds of single trainers that are thrown into landfills and ground into composite materials. “I immediately made it more difficult for myself because I’m not taking pairs because they can be used as they are,” the 24-year old said. “So I was like right well I’ll take all the random ones that you don’t know what to do with.” As someone used to working with suede and leather, cutting up old sneakers opened Kirkum’s eyes to a whole new construction of shoes. The scratches and marks on the discarded shoes became a point of

fascination to the designer and the foundation point for her entire footwear collection. Although they are entirely wearable, Kirkum’s shoes would be just as comfortable on one’s feet as they would on display in a gallery. What she is doing is reverting the notion that a sneaker is synonymous with practicality and function. Every piece that Kirkum creates is entirely unique and the challenge for her lies in making an identical pair.

“Sneakers are disposable and these aren’t the answer to

sustainable problems, but what I’m trying to do is make a point

about the world we live in and our current consumerism lifestyle”

Despite having coming from Northampton, the shoe manufacturing mecca of the UK, her interest in footwear only started when she was visiting a graduate fair and spotted a pair of pointed bronze brogues at the University of Northampton stall. Kirkum went on to study fashion, footwear and accessories at the University of Northampton, where the seeds of her deconstructed methods were planted. “It was very regimented in terms of making a shoe to factory standards,” she says. “So it really led me to explore; what if I make it upside down, inside out?” The footwear that she made while she was at university was a far cry from her current

“The trainers took on a different story of projecting a livelihood around them; like the ghosts of people’s efforts had all amalgamated into this one thing”

sneakers. In fact, the first shoe that she made was a pink and purple tie-dye mule. However, the rigorous training in traditional craftsmanship really propelled Kirkum to experiment with challenging the production process. After graduating, Kirkum felt that she wasn’t quite finished with shoes. She applied to the Royal College of Art to do an MA in Footwear and was accepted

“A lot of sneaker culture is about the display of products. People really idolise these products and see them of great social value and status” on the course. It was during her Master’s that Kirkum began to take a more thoughtful approach towards creating footwear and she began to hone her craft in deconstruction. During her first year there, Kirkum, who had developed an interest with sportswear during her bachelors degree, won an industry project with Adidas and was employed as a full-time designer after she graduated. Despite thoroughly enjoying working for the German sports brand, Kirkum felt a strong desire to start her own collection and left the company last year. Kirkum’s sneakers have been garnering attention

from a variety of designers and streetwear publications, High Snobiety and Hypebeast. More recently, she was tapped by Per Götesson to create Lycra® boots for their Spring Summer 2018 collection. It comes at an interesting time where sneakers are more in-demand than ever, with every fashion luxury house producing their own versions of the sport shoe. Does it bother her then that these labels are treading on her toes? “I think there’s a space for everything,” she replies. “It puts a lot of pressure on brands but I think it keeps everything fresh.” Kirkum’s main focus right now is starting up her own label of bespoke shoes. She’s not interested in creating footwear for mass production. In addition, last November she started teaching workshops to footwear students at Northampton. When she had begun studying there, sneakers weren’t even on the curriculum and it was only during her MA that she really began to tackling this type of footwear. So has much changed since her time there? “I spoke to about four boys who all told me the reason they decided to study footwear was because they wanted to make sneakers,” Kirkum laughs. And with her sneakers breaking the mould with every stitched edge, it’s no wonder that these students want to step into her shoes.

Helen Kirkum is dismantling convention by extracting the function out of sneakers and making them avant-garde. Photo by Namal Lanka

The Northhampton designer likes to embody her cut-and-paste shoes in her â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;tomboyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; style of clothing. All photos of Kirkum taken by Natalie Chui.

CRIMES

AGAINST

SHOEMANITY 14

Ugly is in. A closer examination at the true animalistic nature of shoes and the offences they commit. Illustrations by @j_suede Embroidery art by @thatsewnicole

Fish out of water

These is muddy shoes

Camel toe walking

Crocodile tears

To catch an armadillo

J Scott gives you wings

tomiwa adeosun became apparent for me it was more about the personalities 24

that I wanted to try and represent.â&#x20AC;?

Photo on this page and next page by Egle Pernare

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The guys in the Chelsea Fire station were my muses. It

Stomping out the blaze Fireman come footwear designer Tomiwa Adeosun talks going from a sneaker fan to an Adidas designer

ust a few years ago, Tomiwa Adeosun was a fireman with the Chelsea Fire Brigade. But, unlike – and alien to – his fellow firemen, he was simultaneously doing a bachelor’s degree in footwear at the London College of Fashion. Though not a conventional career progression, it seemed only natural for the designer, who’s been obsessed with sneakers since he was a kid growing up in London. AAdeosun, who was born in Nigeria but relocated to London at the age of four, spent his early teenage years sketching the trainers he would see in stores. However, without a clear idea of how to get a foot in the industry door, he turned his focus instead to sport, initially completing a degree in sport science and business studies. After realizing that wasn’t where he wanted to be, a few of Adeosun’s friends who were working as firefighters convinced him to join the squad. He was immediately sold on the shift system that would allow him to pursue other interests outside work. “I was physically away from the design studio, from studying and that gave me the kind of space to be able to really look at my design,” the Londoner says. It was the perfect job; allowing him to earn a living while working towards his true passion. He kept up his job as Chelsea firefighter through both his BA at LCF and a subsequent MA at the Royal College of Art. When Adeosun started studying footwear, his mind was set on learning how to make trainers. But on the course at Cordwainers, largely focused on formal, high-end footwear, his focus shifted to crafting women’s shoes. After his BA, as well as interning at Moschino and Nicholas Kirkwood, Adeosun transitioned back to working on men’s shoes at the RCA. While in the summer between the two years of his MA, the designer spent his holiday travelling around Europe and happened upon seeing the fire stations in each country he visited. The experience propelled him to hone his graduate collection around his time as a firefighter, as well as his friends at the Chelsea Fire Brigade. “I was massively influenced by the physical hardware that we had at the fire station, also by the people and the personalities at the fire station,” Adeosun says. The range of shoes, all molded with a rounded toe, incorporated workwear elements from firefighter uniforms, taking inspiration from the bulky protective

jackets and the neon stripes that ran on the hem of the trousers. Construction was a key part of the collection, with the boots structured straight so that they reached mid-calf. The shoes were equipped to protect, much like the plastic helmets Adeosun would wear daily in his job. “I wanted them to be gritty but with an element of finesse because I was making functional fashion boots.” says the designer.

“The first set of trainers which I

was super gobsmacked by were the Air Max 95- they brought

people from other worlds into

that sphere of understanding how trainers could make a statement”

The minute details that go on day-to-day in the fire station served as a catalyst for the design of the boots. Adeosun used a combination of harder elements such as leather and buckles to represent the physicality of the job but refined the rugged look with intricate cuttings and softer lines around the ankle. Detail is important to the designer who describes himself as someone ‘obsessed with having everything right’ and it’s through footwear that he feels he can really express himself as a designer. “For me it’s about lines and proportions, is it making a silhouette chunky, is it making it really slim?” he asks. The designer has come full circle back to sneakers and is now working for Adidas as a footwear designer in Portland, Oregon. Transitioning from the UK to the US for sneakers has proven to be not just a career step, but a real insight into the transatlantic cultural difference between the laces. There’s no denying the fact that a large part of the cultural identity behind sneakers is rooted in America. Nike, Adidas and Under Armour all have headquarters in Portland. Yet sneakers hold a worldwide appeal; so, if there’s such a demand for them globally, why is it that America still reigns supreme? The designer cites the influence of hip-hop

culture as the primary reason why sneakers have always held a State side connection and recalls growing up watching what shoes rappers would be wearing in music videos. Adeosun feels as if there is now a return back to his home country for sneaker inspiration. In England, the most popular sneakers are all derived from mainstream sportswear brands and there is a real love for the shoe. What Adeosun sees is that due to the lack of homegrown mainstream sports brands from the UK, a surge in independent footwear brands is growing instead.

designer and working to innovate and evolve the shoe he loves so much. “The thing about designing trainers is that you’re there to cater for everyone not just people that have similar taste to you. Who has a definition of what a trainer should look like?” But we’ll have to wait and see whether a line of his own is on the cards. “Every footwear designer coming into the industry has dreamt of having their own line.... It’s still something to aspire but the realities of manufacturing is that it’s a very expensive thing to get into.”

“Years ago, growing up in London,

we were inspired by American hip

hop artists and now American kids are inspired by British grime.”

Adeosun, who enjoys wearing Adidas Stan Smiths on his own feet, is still developing as a designer. “Working with Adidas has provided me with an even deeper understanding of crafting sneakers. There’s an incredible amount of work that goes into the development of trainers,” he says. “It’s awe-inspiring to be involved with and to witness.” Technology enables the design team to work with a projected timeline and currently, there are departments working on shoes for the year 2020. It’s an incredible opportunity for Adeosun, who has spent his whole life venerating Adidas. He sees a long future for himself at the German sports brand, developing himself as a

Inspired by his former colleagues, Adeosun wanted to establish a strong character in his boots by combining harsh lines with softer materials. Photos on this page and that page by John McGrath

29 7

Fayette Ma enjoys collaborating with fashion designers to produce footwear as it gives her the opportunity to create couture runway pieces as an addition to her own collection of shoes that carry a heavy emphasis on comfort. Photo on this page courtesy of catwalking, on that page courtesy of Fayette Ma.

Made in China

fayette ma

Fayette Ma is subverting the perception of cheap Chinese production by hand crafting immaculately architectural shoes

hen we hear the words ‘Made in China’ we tend to think of cheap, mass-market products made by underpaid workers. But Fayette Ma is putting her best foot forward to change that perception with her range of hand-crafted shoes made in China. The footwear designer works very closely with a studio in Guangzhou to produce her shoes. The factory, managed by a senior from her previous university, is the best in China in manufacturing shoes. The craftsmanship is evident from top to toe, and a single pair of shoes can take as long as a week to make. “I have ideas to write ‘Made in China’ on the upper part of the shoes so customers know immediately where the shoes come from.” Ma pays the most attention to the shape of the shoe and her footwear predominantly takes on an architectural, sculpted form. Experimentation is one of the most fundamental steps in Ma’s design process. For Central Saint Martins alumna Xiao Ming Shan’s graduate collection, she created a six-piece collection of shoes that drew inspiration from handwritten sheet music. As the models were dressed in coloured pieces that resembled musical notes, the shoes acted as the staccato note to the rhythm of the clothes. The heels, brick like in shape, were carved out of wood and had intricate lines cut out leaving lines of space that could only be seen from the back. Decorated on the shoes were pearls that were arranged to mirror the dotted notes, created in perfect harmony. For her own graduate collection, Ma is utilizing mending techniques to create shoes inspired by the Japanese legend of Kensuke. Always drawn to creating broad shapes, her designs often play with various dimensions, varying from square toes or pointed edges. For her final collection, the designer has made a conscious effort to use vegan leather and lighter fabrics. Her home country has often received a bad

reputation for heavy pollution, therefore Ma is hoping to dismantle that notion by making shoes that are also environmentally friendly. Designing for Ma is about taking the silhouette of the foot and transforming it into a dynamic shape. She’s both the muse and designer of her footwear, and can often be found wearing the shoes she’s created.

“I don’t really think about who will buy my shoes, I follow my instincts instead and considering how wearable my shoes are” Born in southern Chinese city Guangzhou, Ma fell in love with illustration through high school art classes and spent countless hours drawing the way people dress. Eventually, this led to her studying fashion design at the Beijing Institute of Fashion Technology, but she struggled to find enjoyment and upon graduation, felt unsatisfied with fashion. She applied to study at the London College of Fashion and the interviewer, after noticing her sketches of shoes, suggested that she apply to Cordwainers to pursue footwear design instead. “I hadn’t made shoes before that, but I just really enjoyed drawing them.” Fortunately, the risk paid off, and the designer found herself spending weeks on end tinkering with shoes. The designer is due to begin studying for her master’s degree at the Royal College of Art, where she hopes to undertake internships with other, bigger companies. However, what she really wants to achieve is her own line of couture shoes. “I could never see myself mass producing shoes,” she remarks to me. “I think so much of the beauty lies in the fact that my shoes are specially made for someone.”

A look from a collaboration between CSM womenswear alumna Xiao Ming Shan and Fayette Ma. The heels were high (four inches) but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s block-esque structure also made them comfortable to walk in.

firdaos pidau Fuck you heels Firdaos Pidauâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s aggressive shoes are an ode to the women who brought him up 34

“I don ’t make ‘fuck m e’ shoes. I make ‘fuck you, fuc k off, fuc k it’ shoes”

as a sales assistant at Lanvin. Despite doing a communications diploma after school, it was whilst he was undergoing his mandatory two years of army national service that he realised what he wanted most was to study shoes. He applied to LCF’s Cordwainers, and in the span of a week was accepted with a portfolio of shoe sketches. A scholarship from Singapore for nonacademic studies enabled him to attend his first year at Cordwainers. He then was awarded another scholarship from Charlotte Olympia, which would fund his next three years at the college and also gave him the opportunity to work for the British footwear brand on his placement year.

“Since I was in primary school, I would pack lunch from home just so I could buy a pair of Nikes and lie about the price to my mum”

hen Firdaos Pidau was younger, he would find himself drawn to the female superheroes he would watch in films. “I would see a superhero in stiletto boots, it’s harder for them but they still fight just as well as the men.” He says. As a self-described ‘misfit’ in school, he found solace in going to the public library and reading fashion magazines. This began the designer’s obsession and all his money going on a new pair of shoes to wear to school. Pidau always sets out to challenge himself in some way when he designs shoes. “In my first year studying footwear I had a reputation for doing difficult shoes,” he said. “It wasn’t difficult, it’s just step one, step two, step three were all jumbled up to make it.” The Muslim designer has always felt like an outsider and the root of his graduate collection is about celebrating the triumphs of being a misfit. He’s utilizing trompe-l’œil to play deceptive tricks on the heels, changing the focus of the shoes from different angles, making it look 2D from one and 3D from the other. He’s also manipulating the stem of the heel, extending their appearance to seem taller than they actually are. What the designer doesn’t want to make, is soft and feminine shoes. “I grew up around women who weren’t like that,” he says. The heels in turn are composed out of odd jagged shapes mashed together in punchy shades. “I want people to see the woman walking and say, how the hell did she walk in those?” he says. They’ve got hard lines and a tenacious attitude to them. Pidau got his foot in the fashion door by working

Originally he was set on being a fashion designer, but found that when sketching an outfit, he would always begin with the shoes. He’s developed a habit of sketching shoes every day since he was a teen and it’s what he loves most about footwear. “If I sketch a shoe or am settling on a design, I would literally walk around my flat on tip-toe or stand by the curb and just imagine what it feels like to wear the shoe,” he says. “Then if it feels right, you know you’ve got it. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s all in the head.” Although he’s experimented with men’s shoes, he prefers to take a back seat when it comes to designing them. “I like to enjoy shoes, so when it comes to men’s shoes, I like to be a spectator,” he says, clad chunky round boots from Marsèll. It’s about looking a bit alien-esque for him footwearwise and there’s an appeal in steering against conventions of handsomeness. It’s only when he was studying footwear that Pidau truly felt comfortable in his own feet. Comfort is something he strives for the women in his heels to feel. Women who always broke the rules of tradition have surrounded him. His grandmother, who is Arab, rebelled against tradition and didn’t marry within race. So for Pidau, who was brought up by his mother, aunt and grandmother, women have always been the driving force in his life. “I don’t think women need ‘fuck me’ shoes, “ he says. “They don’t!” The women he envisions in his shoes are simply his family. Despite this, he has yet to make a pair of heels for his mother, but plans to once his graduate collection is out of the way.

Pidau cherishes sketching and illustrates shoes every day. A challenge in sketching for him lies in getting the proportions exact. Photo by Natalie Chui. All illustrations by Firdaos Pidau.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Shoes bring me joy and I want to be able to let people feel powerful and invincible in shoesâ&#x20AC;?

erin corrian-alexis “I hear people complain about how women in high heels can’t walk, well stop expecting us wearing heels to a fucking club”

‘Pulling & Parting’ was a labour of love for the designer. Photo on that page by Natalie Chui, on this page by Jake Elwin.

Weaving heritage Erin Corrian-Alexis rejoices being Black and British through crafting shoes

s a child, shoes for Erin Corrian-Alexis had a cheap price tag and came from Shoe Zone. Growing up in North West London to a ‘very’ working-class family, the footwear designer was taught from an early age to consider every spending she made. The first pair of branded shoes she bought was paid out of her own pocket. “Maybe that’s my direct reaction from not having money,” the footwear designer says. “It allowed me to think about creating opulent things that I wouldn’t be able to afford.”

“My hands are made to build things. Not little things. Big things”

During her final year at LCF’s Cordwainers, where she did BA: Product Innovation, the designer felt a need to focus her graduate collection on her upbringing. The collection, “Pulling and Parting” was a celebration of the intricate styling of black hair; a direct reflection of her Black British heritage. Corrian-Alexis used

black Mongolian fur to resemble the Afro hair that her Caribbean cousins would braid on her when they visited on holiday. “If I smelled blue magic, I knew I was getting my hair done,” she says. The shoes came packaged with a specific hair care kit where there were card instructions as how to style them with greases, gels and hair grips, inviting the wearer to partake in the experience the Londoner had as a child. With chunky wooden heels and beads, the collection was a strong statement crafted by the politically engaged designer on the beauty of her heritage. Growing up, the 24-year old thought she was going to be a painter, having spent hours as a kid obsessed with painting. Through careful evaluation during her foundation at Central Saint Martins and a sense of practicality, she found that product design was more viable for her in the long-term future and went to Cordwainers to solve problems by making shoes. “I remember we were told there were lots of jobs in product design,” she says. “Footwear came out of it.”

Life after graduation has propelled Corrian-Alexis into working for wholesale footwear company Lacey’s Footwear. While she has her main nine-to-five, she also takes on several personal projects, including collaborating with close friend, Central Saint Martins womenswear alumna Essie Buckman on the shoes for her Autumn/Winter ’18 collection of Fortie Label. The success behind their collaboration lies in the fact that the two of them relate to each other as workingclass women of colour, a point that the designer wants to vocalize in her work. Having a close-knit group of women is very important to the designer -- whose friendship circle includes RnB singer Jorja Smith -- and it’s the basis for the women in her shoes. She wants women to be able to walk confidently, freely and feel as ‘sick’ in her shoes as they look.

“The best shoes that I’ve ever had

are ones that I’ve been able to wear and have wild nights or days where I’m not feeling that my feet hurt.”

When it comes to her own shoes, it’s a big step away from the heeled boots she made for the Fortie

collection. “If you’re going to ask me to name my favourite shoes, it would not be heels,” she says. Of the entire Fortie collaboration, it was the flatter mules that were her favourite. “Once I made them, I couldn’t wait to wear them,” she says. More likely to be found in Vans over stilettos, the designer is a strong advocate in reclaiming flat shoes as a form of personal empowerment. “It feels like it’s about the male gaze a lot with the high heels, they’re designed by men for women to wear. You’ll never put that on your foot and know the stress of it.” Her own ethos is something she hopes to inject into her future plans. She’s very much set on starting up her own label but on her own terms. The shoes debuted in her collection have a pull towards the wearable and she takes the wearer’s comfort seriously. “I really want to focus on flatter shoes and more shoes that I want to wear. I want to create a flat shoe I could go out in.” In addition, she’s also developing her work on men’s shoes -- something that’s been on her mind for a while. One thing’s for certain though, when Corrian-Alexis launches her own label, it will be on her own terms. “If I have to continue doing small ranges and small collections, that’s what I want to do,” she says. “I rather do that than be churning out fucking hundreds of pairs in Topshop.”

Representing her Afro-Caribbean heritage is something that Corrian-Alexis hopes to continue throughout her collaborations and her shoes. Photo on this page and that page by Jake Elwin.

Introducing the new crop of footwear designers causing a heatwave.

Photography by Wendy Huynh Styling by Nick Chan Model Davinya Cooper

BIG FOR YOUR BOOTS. Next page: Shoes by Helen Kirkum, Top by Marc Jacobs and Trousers are stylistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own.

PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD

PRICKLY SITUATION: Shoes by Carmen Channers, top and trousers are stylistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own.

SHINING BRIGHTLY Shoes by Fayette Ma, trousers and top are stylistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own.

This page: Shoes by Helen Kirkum. SANDALS FOR THE SUN Page across: Shoes by Dianne Park, dress is stylistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own

KICK

BACK

The female-only sneaker shops kitting out a new generation of sneakerheads

It’s no secret that London loves sneakers. You can find them stocked in countless stores across the city, including sport shops JD Sports and Size? If sold out in stores, they’re often found online reselling for more than double the original price to sneakerheads, devoted fans of the sole. Sneakerheads are a fearless bunch, you’ll find them camping out in tents for days on end with the hope of copping the latest sneaker drop. So while there’s no denying the city’s booming sneaker scene, female sneakerheads have long been left out of the loop. Lisa Barlow-Weber has accumulated hundreds of sneakers over the past decade. It was her older brother who got her into them and when she received a pair of Nike’s for her 13th birthday, she became an obsessive kicks collector. “I worked as a sales assistant for Footlocker when I was fifteen,” she says. “The staff there were predominantly all guys so I copied them on what the hottest shoe was.” Barlow-Weber worked as a sales assistant at Size? before landing her dream job as a merchandiser for

Nike. While working at Nike, she saw that sneakers were getting increasingly popular among women, but there weren’t any sneakers or shops catering to them. “Year after year more women were getting into sneaker culture,” She says. ‘I did a lot of consumer insights and knew that there weren’t really any female specific sneaker stores.” Her experience led her to open KicksLove, the first female only sneakerhead store in London. The store opened its doors in Deptford Market Yard in late 2016, their largest market being young women aged 20-25.

“Five or ten years ago, if you were a woman in sneakers it was assumed that you weren’t feminine or weren’t sexy.”

When it comes down to it, the main issue for female sneakerheads is the limited sizes. Typically, the smallest size for men’s sneakers is a UK size 5 -

Entrepreneur’s Lisa Barlow-Weber (left) and Jessica Gavigan (right) are giving women their own space in sneaker culture by running their own shops. Photo on left courtesy of Lisa Barlow-Weber, on right courtesy of Jessica Gavigan.

“I’m a female sneakerhead and there’s nowhere for me to shop, so I’m going to create one” 51

though many brands start from UK size 5.5 onwards. As reported in The Independent in 2014, the most popular shoe size for women is a UK size 5 and considering it’s the starting point for men’s sneakers, it’s often produced in small ranges. New Balance suggest on their website that women who wear UK size 4 or smaller should shop from the kids range. Barlow-Weber found shopping in the kids section an endless source of frustration, but it would be the only way she could find the sneakers she wanted in a size that fit her.

“I’m way more in to mens’ releases but they just never really run down to my size” Women don’t want a pink version of a Nike Air Max, but the same Nike Air Max that’s designed for men in their size. “When brands became aware of how women’s sneakers were trending they thought that women wanted a feminine variation of sneakers,” she explains. “It’s not about femininity but access to products.” If it’s a matter of size, why aren’t sport brands making smaller shoes? Many factors go into production, and crafting a smaller shoe can generate higher costs of factory machinery. Yet, the change needs to happen in size. “If a brand’s going to bring out an OG, it needs to go from a UK size 2.5 up,” Barlow-Weber says. The female sneakers that do exist miss the mark when it comes to actually catering to women. Jessica Gavigan admits that she never looks at the women’s

section. “It’s always predictable,” she says. “It’s always patent, earthy, dark colours in the winter and pastel suede pinks for spring and summer.” Gavigan who also commonly goes by her social media alias of “Juice Gee”, is a well-known sneakerhead in the streetwear scene, having amassed over twentynine thousand followers on her Instagram account where she posts daily pictures of her outfits and plethora of sneakers. “Girls were always asking me where my kicks were from,” says Gavigan. Realizing a growing interest, as well as a need to sell her large sneaker collection, the 29-year old launched her online sneaker store Small Feet Big Kicks (SFBK) in 2011. SFBK provided a platform for her to sell rare, collectible kicks in an easily accessible way. “At the time, sneakers for girls weren’t a thing.” So we created an accessible place for a rapidly growing scene.”

The inside of KicksLove is a relaxed, informative space where shoppers can learn about sneaker history. Image courtesy of Lisa Barlow-Weber.

Gavigan also runs a blog called ‘The Unisex Mode’ with stylist Kitty Cowell on sneakers and streetwear for women. Photo by Meara Kallista

Since opening up KicksLove, Barlow-Weber has received a lot of support from women, be they sneakerheads devoted to rare finds, to women who just want an everyday trainer. For Barlow-Weber, the most inspiring part of her business is being able to provide the customer with a great experience and a product they love. Surprisingly, while she may have won the support of the fan base, she hasn’t received supports from major sports brands. KicksLove doesn’t stock any sneakers from Adidas or Nike. “Reebok and Adidas didn’t buy into the concept,” she reveals. “I don’t have a Nike account which is ridiculous considering I worked there for six years.” The lack of support from the major sports brands is down to the fact that they have accumulated large success with a variety of big mainstream sport retailers such as Footlocker and JD Sports. So for the big brands, an independent retailer is a far off afterthought. BarlowWeber has been able to turn the situation around and instead stocks independent brands like Veja. “So many brands out there have their own products and their own story,” she explains. “You’re bringing that to a consumer that’s never had access to it before and you realise its actually really diverse, they don’t just want Adidas.” After launching SFBK, Gavigan has observed changes in the sneaker scene; most notably, there are far fewer collectors out there. “The women’s sneaker scene in London is much more of a fashion statement

than a die hard sneaker scene,” she says. For Gavigan, sneakers carry much sentimental value: the obsession began when a teenage boyfriend convinced her to buy a pair. After buying a pair of Nike AM90’s from Sports Direct, she was hooked. A spurt in popularity saw sneakers snatched up by the high street, and they continue to be produced by every high street brand from H&M to Zara. The SFBK founder cites this as the primary reason younger teenage girls have started to wear more sneakers. “It’s funny to see the constant rollercoaster in sales due to social media trends!” she laughs.

“I think now that women just want the same as the guys, they just want it in their size”

These days, 17-year olds are yearning for a pair of Nike TN plus trainers over a Manolo Blahnik heel; a far cry from the days of Sex and the City where women painfully endured wearing four-inch stilettos, morning to night. Gavigan cites comfort as the main reason she loves sneakers. “I’ve worn sneakers every day for the last 10 years,” she says. “#STAYCOZY is my thing.” It’s a sentiment that Barlow-Weber also shares. “I think that a lot of women are just like ‘Fuck the stereotype, I’m comfortable, if you don’t respect me, cool’.” She says. For Gavigan, it’s been amazing to witness the

Barlow-Weber always dreamed of opening KicksLove after shopping and working for sports stores all her life. Image courtesy of Lisa Barlow-Weber.

“There were no girls back then into sneakers in the same way I was but

that’s completely tipped on its head

now. Its probably 50/50 girls and boys who collect sneakers now.” 54

success of SFBK. “People are fully behind it and are just happy to see something that is a niche,” she says. It’s also something that Barlow-Weber is experiencing with KicksLove. The amount of support both of these stores, offline and online, are receiving is a testament to the growing community of female sneakerheads.

“If you’re a sneakerhead, there are so many products out there it’s just where do you go, who do you pick – it’s just a bit confusing at times I think” “The only negative response I get is when guys come in and they’re like ‘it’s just women’s yeah?’ and they walk straight back out,” Barlow-Weber says. “We’ve been shopping in men’s sneaker stores forever. It’s funny that

they don’t think they can shop in a female store.” There’s a lot underway for KicksLove, which is relocating to a new location in Greenwich. New brands such as Filling Pieces are coming to the store, as well as an exclusive collaboration with Fila, with Barlow-Weber creating a custom colourway for the new release of their Mind Blower shoe. She hopes one day to be able to provide special collaborations with Nike and Adidas; but what she always wants is to provide a holistic experience for the customer, where they can come away with a brand-new understanding of the shoes that they love. Gavigan agrees with keeping the growing female fanbase happy. She’s learnt from launching SFBK that as a buyer, it’s most important to serve the customer first. “I want to keep providing the small footed people’s wavey kicks.” With more and more women stepping into sneakers, it’s no doubt that these shops are going to continue to flourish.

dianne park

Studying MA Footwear has been a chance for Dianne Park to apply her scientific knowledge into shoes. Image courtesy of Dianne Park

A walk on the flat side Dianne Park wants to improve the way we move

orm follows function. It’s a famous design quote that Dianne Park lives by. The Korean footwear designer is fascinated with problem solving and it’s the basis of her work. “I always start my design from functional facts,” she says. “I’m always seeking problems that widely exist in our society.” This belief forms the mindset behind her graduate collection at the London College of Fashion’s Cordwainers, where she is currently doing an MA in Footwear Design. “I began by researching medical conditions induced by poorly made footwear,’ says Park. “I found that knee arthritis is one of the most serious problems.” Her graduate collection centres on therapeutic footwear for elderly women who suffer from osteoarthritis. By examining the foot as an organ, her approach is to improve the consumer’s health. By using a heelless shape, Park’s shoes challenge the appearance of the sole. The sole of her shoes appear almost unwearable— instead of the typical one-piece cut that forms a sole, they’re composed of rubber strings in an assortment of hues from bright reds to lilac. The strings are intertwined together to form different geometric patterns. The upper part of the shoe is revealing, with woven ropes and braids covering the upper part of the foot— couture sandals that slip on as easy as a flip-flop. Despite being all knotted up, her shoes are made meticulously, and function and health come first in the design process. “To be specific, improper footwear can cause serious diseases or injuries by restricting people’s movements,” Park explains. Her shoes, made with the foot’s structure in mind, enable people to walk better. Prior to her MA at Cordwainers, Park completed a BA with a double major in textile art, fashion design and visual communication at Hongik University in South Korea. After she graduated, the designer worked for Le Coq Sportif before moving to Japanese sports brand Descente, where she spent four years as a footwear designer. It was a happy accident for Park, who originally applied to the company as an accessory designer but was instead assigned to the footwear department. Park’s functional approach to footwear comes from a lifetime spent obsessed with sportswear. When she was in primary school, she asked her mum to buy her a

pair of Nike Air Max’s after seeing them on her friends. The designer has also had first-hand experience working on sport shoes at Descente, though she finds the recent boom in sneakers to be a trend that comes and goes. “In the 90’s, Nike Jordans led a huge stream of sport sneakers,” she says. “Nowadays, many luxury brands are showing their sneakers by combining new styles such as whole knitted shoes or collaborating with sport brands.” Park, who’s often clad in slip-ons from Vans, finds that the comfort and craftsmanship of sneakers are what drives their popularity. “When I worked as a footwear designer, I found that I need to consider not only fashion trends, but also its proper function.” There’s no particular shoe that she dislikes, rather she finds that every style has its own characteristics and should be celebrated, sneaker to stiletto.

“Footwear is really important for people’s lives because it can be helpful but sometimes harmful your movement as well.” After she graduates from Cordwainers, Park hopes to return to the sports industry to work for Nike or Adidas. Her MA has allowed the designer to discover new research techniques and undertake workshops with different artists, companies and schools. She’s found it an invaluable experience that has widened her perspective as a designer. “All nine students come from different backgrounds and it’s broken my stereotype of design.” With this new outlook, Park can’t wait to inject it back into the industry she loves.

The sole is the most important part of movement and its the very basis of all of Parkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s designs. All sketches on the previous page, this page and the page across courtesy of Dianne Park.

Glossary The definitive guide to the most over-used words in the shoe-sphere. Here’s the lingo you can utilize the next time someone admires your crepes.

Beaters

Dope

Beaters are shoes that are quite beat up due to them

Dope is a way of describing a pair of shoes that are

being excessively worn. It’s a term to describe a shoe

appealing and cool. In this case, it’s not a

that the wearer doesn’t mind getting scuffed or dirty.

reference to drugs.

Colourway

Fresh

A colourway is a term to describe a particular colour

Fresh is a substitute for ‘new’ and is often applied to

combination on a shoe that’s typically a trainer.

shoes in the same manner it would be used for the

Crepes

food produce aisle. You always want the freshest shoes.

Crepes are British slang for a pair of stylish sneakers.

Grail

So when someone is talking about crepes, they

A term to describe the most desirable sneakers there

mean the tasty sneakers on your feet, not the French

is out there. Derived from the term ‘holy grail’, a grail

crêpe on your plate. The slang is derived from

shoe is either very expensive or very rare.

Crepe sole, which is a soft rubber sole that forms

Needless, it’s the ‘holy grail’.

the lower part of a men’s shoe.

Just for Kicks

Crispy

A way of saying the phrase “Just for Laughs”, only with

This is slang to describe shoes that are extremely clean

kicks instead of laughs. It means ‘just for the hell of it’.

and are often brand new. Derived from the word ‘crisp’.

Kicks

Sneaker Freaker

Slang for a pair of shoes, not the physical action of using

A Sneaker Freaker is a person who’s addicted to

a foot as an implement of destruction. Typically referred

buying branded sneakers. It’s the first incarnation

to sneakers, Kicks have become the most popular way of

of a sneaker addict and its commonly associated

saying sneakers without using the

with the word sneakerhead.

word sneakers. It dates back to American hobo slang in 1904 where kicks was a term used to describe a shoe that could be used to ‘kick’ in.

What are those? A phrase popularized by a meme online. It’s used by a person to express shock and disgust at another

person’s footwear. The footwear that’s critiqued is often

OG is an acronym for ‘original gangster’ or ‘original’

dirty or unbranded. Either way, you don’t want to be on

and shoe-wise, it means the original incarnation of a

the receiving end of ‘What are those?’

shoe. A shoe may have many variations but the OG is always the most coveted one. Shoe game This is a phrase to describe all the shoes that you own. It’s used when someone compares the amount of shoes they have to someone else’s shoe wardrobe.