As kids, we never thought of them as really more than what they were: shoes.

True, some of us made them our hobby, some of us collected, some made sure we were the first on our block to obtain the freshness the minute they hit the corner sports store, some allowed our kicks to define who we really were. But for most of us – sneak freaks, shoe heads, ekins, sole collectors, kicksologists – the shoe game is one that is built on nothing else but passion.

 

Passion for design. Passion for style. Passion for performance, product, originality and rareness. Passion for Airness. Over the last 25 years, there has existed an international subculture unlike any other in the world. One that has connected different races, different religions, different lifestyles, different ways of life. All differences pushed to the side, accepted and ignored, all for the passion.

And when someone doesn't understand the power – understand how grown men can spend days talking about the intricacies of the lacing system of original Air Darwins, or the line design of the Puma Romas or the color ways of k1x, or the 35-year history of the Adidas Superstar – that the sole has on our soul, we never look at these people the same. "How can you not get it?" we say to them, while we create an us-against-them mentality. "Two hundred bucks for a pair of gym shoes?" is the response most heard. Yeah, but "they're Italian leather 1's or retro Jordan IV's in black suede," is what we say to self, knowing that expressing these rationalities out loud will only complicate the matter more. So we internalize our passion.

Knowing that the power will never find those that wear Skechers.

For us sneaker heads it is a part of who we are. It's a phenomenon like no other. One that can't be explained or studied, rational'd or logic'd. It can only be understood. Understood by those of us who've stood in line all night to cop the Jordan XI midnight release. For those of us who have had a hard time making a decision about "my girl or my kicks." For those of us who went to prom in 'em or got married in 'em. For those of us who still walk around with toothbrushes and new shoestrings in our pockets – just in case , you know, just in case. For those of us who refuse to say the words Manolo Blahnik because we know a woman's shoe game can't compete with what we got in our closets.

Only we understand. StreetKicks understands.

Here at StreetKicks we supply our ever growing obsession and fuel it as best we can. Because at the end of the day, we do love it. Would we want it any other way?

And the difference between us and them is simple: At least we admit that we have issues.

Plus, there's no way in hell we drop a couple of G's on a pair of shoes.

Unless MJ actually wore them...