A New Yorkers’ Perspective on Regional Style and its Evolution

Are you from NYC? If so, you will most likely connect with the stories that follow. This newsletter series is an attempt to tell stories about a myriad of relatable topics—old NYC, new NYC, possibly learning about some NYC friends, and some shared experiences from a native New Yorker navigating life—still settled in NYC. I was born and raised in Brooklyn—second generation with a lineage dating back to the early 1900s, so when you dive into my thoughts hopefully it inspires nostalgia. My opinionated approach, to the following topic, is inspired—or maybe even aggravated—by the infiltration of transplants and the loss of our hidden NYC culture and its impact on style, fashion, and lifestyle over several decades. I hope that I am given grace and that you, as the reader, understand that my sentiments are coming from a place of good intention and love for my city. I am hoping that this will reach those of you who are from here (most importantly), those who have love for NYC, and transplants who are ready to learn, respect, and fully appreciate the stories that NYC has to offer and willing to be open-minded to all the changes that NYC has endured. I’m not sure exactly where these stories will go from here, but I believe they are important. I’m open to hearing your stories as well and looking forward to the community that comes out of this venture. My initial attempt at this type of storytelling was an ode to NYC. Since my earlier exploration, I’ve decided to start by bringing this series to life to represent somewhat of a love letter to Brooklyn, the people in it, and my family’s legacy here. Brooklyn to the world. 

POV: You try on your first pair of Jordans at Modell’s on Atlantic Ave. I got my first pair of OG Jordans in 1998, Bred 13s. For some people who aren’t privy to the difference between OGs, retros, and whatever other new terminology there is—OG means “original” in the sneaker world. It refers to the very first version or an early release of a specific sneaker model. 1998 marks the first release of this sneaker. Size 13, I was 7 years old and they were my pride and joy. 1998 was a big year. In addition to the Chicago Bulls winning the NBA finals over Utah and Jordan winning MVP, I was wearing my 13s every day even when I grew out of them slightly and they started to hurt my feet. I was also missing several teeth in the top row and growing into my looks. Typically paired with a hand-me-down Power Ranger or Jordan tee, I played sports in those sneakers, but I also wore them all-purpose. My parents were frugal and I didn’t have many options for everyday shoes. That was the induction of Jordan into my wardrobe. Jordan created sneakers to be worn through generations beyond functional attribution. The starting point being popularized in the home of hip-hop—NYC. This is clearly before sneaker culture scaled globally and especially before the rise of hypebeast culture. This was when regional style still existed and you could tell the difference between a dude from Harlem and one from Brooklyn. 

For years, I’ve begged my parents to get me at least one pair of Jordans after my initial induction into the cult. My brother had far more Jordans than I did, but waiting for my chance at a hand-me-down pair became my favorite pastime. When I think of the evolution of sneaker culture, I am also recollecting memories of how fashion and sneakers intertwined in an effortless way. When I started high school, the reason I even got a job was so I could funnel capital towards my sneaker addiction. After a few purchases, at retail price, I realized that I was doing it all wrong. Long story short, I ended up working for Finish Line in high school. But prior to that, I discovered thrifting, which has and still influences much of my style to this day. Beacon’s Closet and Buffalo Exchange were not the trendiest places to shop at the time, but oddly enough I’ve picked up more gems there than I had at any sneaker expo or resale event. 

In the past, almost 2 decades ago, millennials and gen-Xers would line the blocks of LES to get a chance to experience what would appear to be a networking event these days—imagine CultureCon for sneakers, that was a real thing. Sneaker expos had become a safe place for thousands of people with the same addiction, all there for one goal, to come out with something special—a good pair. And I’d bring a few thrifted pairs prepared to trade in for a holy grail that I’d been eyeing. My first love was my midnight blue 4s. I think I traded 3 pairs of sneakers for them—don’t remember which ones. These days, you’d just pay an overpriced resale for them. And even though some people bought, it was also respected and encouraged to trade. It’s how my brother got his Tiffany and Pigeon dunks. He skated in them and ruined others but they were indeed, skate sneakers. Looking at the street fashion landscape now, nothing that is being done currently is innovative from what has already been purposefully driven by NYC culture in the early 2000s and even earlier than that—argue with your mother. Older brothers and uncles who wore constructs, beef and broccolis, pelle pelle’s, Coogi, Fubu; and ‘Skateboard P’ who gifted us iconic brands like BBC and Ice Cream with his visionary exploration of what young kids from the hood could engage with. NYC fashion culture proves that style translates globally and although I am proud of the scaled outcome, I am unsure if the world knows the origin of some of the iconic fashion moments that we’ve revisited and if it even matters to discuss its origins. I’m not by any means an archivist or an expert on all things streetwear, but I am a true institution of knowledge from the perspective of a child who was simply raised by NYC fashion culture, and—to this day—it’s worn on me, effortlessly. 

Nike dunk SB low “Pigeons'' were called pigeons specifically to pay homage to NYC. Pigeons fly rampantly in pacts all over this city. Fed by bored old people in parks, they are the rats of the sky—an NYC staple. In 2005 when Jeff Staple, was asked to design a commemorative sneaker that would represent New York City, it led to him designing a sneaker that would serve as a holy grail collector item, and to this day, the next generation of sneakerheads are still in awe of this legendary shoe. My brother skated in them because that’s what SB dunks were used for. They were functional skateboarding shoes, constructed for comfort and flight. I wore them because they were cheaper than air forces and before I started working in high school, they were reasonably priced enough to reason with my parents. And so, in 2003, I can recall fond memories of how Nike dunks began to infiltrate the sneaker market as a shoe to be worn beyond its functionality. When I was in high school, the affordable Nike Air Force dupe was popularized, young people approved, and thus launched my career as a sneaker reseller on Myspace. The early stages of social media: Myspace, Tumblr, etc. gave young kids a lucrative hobby that unintentionally became the foundation and infrastructure of reselling culture today, but less exploitative and more community-oriented. Some internet friends met me during that era. The market has shifted and now because style is so vast and globally accessible, the communities that once fueled the culture don’t really seem to exist. But that is the process of evolution, so we move with it. [Add photo from myspace if I have]

You used to be able to tell when someone was from NYC just by their outfit. The uniform—Brooklyn wore pelle’s and “constructs,” Harlem wore “merms” and Asolos. At some point, these fashion choices merged within the full city. Years later, street culture became more popularized and the rise of the internet shed light on the underground IYKYK styling tip— NYC isn’t as siloed anymore and insert Y2K culture style and its integration of early 2000s NYC street fashion. History repeats itself as does fashion and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride knowing that NYC and my people are at the forefront of a legacy of street style that is still relevant today. I see the glory of brands like Kith whose founder reigns from the humble beginnings of David Z, where he gave jobs to young Soho kids. I also pay homage to brands like Vinny’s who created a capsule tee shirt that was once impossible to get; so randomly legendary and simply read “Brooklyn” in script on the front. Today, I struggle to see street fashion in the same light that I once saw it. Although my style has matured and adapted, I still try my best to stay true to this. I see the era that I once fell in love with replicated in so many ways, but there’s something in the details where I can always tell when someone is actually from here. 

This story was written to the Ahmad Jamal Trio’s 1970 release — The Awakening