Cairo Association of Teachers - Newsletter

CAT Tracks for March 22, 2009 FOOT(WEAR) FETISH

'Sneakerology 101' at CMU delves into impact of footwear on identity and culture

By Bill Schackner, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Students in a lecture class at Carnegie Mellon University were packing up to leave when Elliott Curtis, their instructor, called them back to their seats, saying he'd forgotten a key part of the lesson.

It was time for them to come forward and show their sneakers.

One by one, volunteers stepped to the front of the room, removed a shoe and -- in the name of higher learning -- placed it on an overhead projector so the class could study and admire the footwear.

One offered up his Halloween edition Air Force 1, a spiffy half-orange, half-black patent leather creation that drew a smattering of applause. Next came a custom-made Nike Dunk in Burberry plaid that moved a woman in the third row to declare, "That is sexy."

Finally, Mr. Curtis, 22, a Carnegie Mellon senior who team-teaches the course with another student, took the plunge, removing one of his own Nike Penny IIs.

"I'll contribute," he said.

No, this was not somebody's shoe-fetish fantasy.

All semester long, these students attending one of the nation's most rigorous universities are earning college credit by taking "Sneakerology 101."

Designed and delivered by Mr. Curtis and senior classmate Jesse Chorng, the hour-long weekly course explores the impact of sneakers on identity and culture. In doing so, it straddles the worlds of hip-hop, fashion and basketball.

Sure, a course devoted to sneakers sounds frivolous at a place better known for classes in engineering and computer science. But consider this: Not only does Sneakerology sometimes have a wait list, those who complete it sometimes come back the next semester for more.

"We actually can't give them credit again," said Mr. Chorng, 21, an economics major from Los Angeles. "So we'll have them come in and speak."

Some of the 45 students sitting in this spring aren't even from campus. Among them is Adam Abu-Elmagd, 21, of Fox Chapel, a marketing major at the University of Pittsburgh who said he was told he could not get credit for the course because of the waiting list. He showed up anyway.

"I love sneakers. Anything about sneakers," said Mr. Abu-Elmagd, who owns 150 pairs and views the class as a way to network for jobs in the sneaker industry and mix with others who share his passion.

"It's almost like a little cult," he said. "If you're a sneaker person, it's exciting to talk to other people about stuff like that."

Since its debut last year, Sneakerology has developed an Internet following among those deeply into the sneaker culture. Many "sneakerheads" think nothing of camping overnight outside a shoe store to get first crack at a soon-to-be released model, or owning enough Reeboks, Nikes and Vans to stuff a closet.

Carnegie Mellon delivers Sneakerology through the school's student college, an initiative that lets students explore and teach subjects not available through regular university offerings.

The one-credit, pass/fail offering attracts novices as well as the sneaker obsessed. It takes a serious look at topics including early hip-hop roots and New York City street fashion, footwear advertising and consumerism, shoe design and technology, and the effect of boutiques and limited-edition releases.

Naturally, a lecture is devoted to the history of the Air Jordan, that iconic Nike line bearing the name of basketball legend Michael Jordan.

As a mid-term assignment, students must design their own sneaker and compose a 200-300 word description of its makeup and what inspired it. Some go all out, like the man who envisioned a sneaker dedicated to the best beards of all time. His shoe, dubbed the Hemingway edition, had fur on the toe.

Students are reminded that there is a story behind every sneaker and that one's choice of footwear says much about their culture and themselves.

Sure, conspicuous consumption is involved in owning half a dozen pairs of the same model, each valued at $400 plus. But the instructors said what really matters is choosing shoes that are an accurate reflection of who you are.

"It's not about getting the newest sneaker," said Mr. Curtis. "It's not about getting the most sought-after sneaker. It's about having a connection with your shoes."

In choosing which of his 70-plus pairs to wear, Mr. Curtis said he draws a daily balance between flash and practicality.

"Usually, the shoes I wear in snow or mud or rain, they're still nice sneakers and they'll still hopefully exemplify that I enjoy sneakers and I know what I'm doing, but I don't mind if they get a little dirty," he said.

Experts said the rise of the sneaker as an expression of self dates back several decades and was strongly influenced by New York City street culture. Sneakers themselves are increasingly in the mainstream.

That's evident when an upscale shoe and apparel company like Cole Haan collaborates with Nike on stylish crossover models, said Ellen Goldstein, an author, professor and department chair at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. It's hard to know how many kinds of original releases, retros, special editions and custom-made sneakers are circulating.

"When you're talking about sneakerheads, who are collectors, who don't even wear the shoes, the numbers are astronomical," she said. "You're talking tens of thousands."

Asking prices can reach thousands of dollars for hard-to-find shoes.

As sneaker aficionados, Mr. Chorng and Mr. Curtis love such trivia.

Mr. Curtis, of Brookline, Mass., a guard for the school's men's basketball team, is a social and decision sciences major who hopes to work in the sneaker industry. His almost encyclopedic knowledge of the topic dates to his boyhood when he followed not only pro basketball but the shoes players wore.

Mr. Chorng sees his future possibly in fashion product management. His sneaker interest lies less in collecting than in tie-ins with urban street culture and graffiti artists.

"I'm not like Elliott," said Mr. Chorng, owner of 15 pairs, including the $50 Chukka Boots he was wearing, made by Vans, his "go-to" brand. "I wouldn't consider myself a sneakerhead."

That said, Mr. Chorng and others recently found themselves in a mall before dawn hoping to get a leg up on others staking out a new model to be released that day at a Foot Locker. They followed a maintenance worker inside the mall, only to find they were not the first to have the idea.

"There were already maybe nine people ahead of us just sleeping on the floor," he said.

Course references for Sneakerology include "Where'd You Get Those?: New York City's Sneaker Culture 1960-1987," a book by prominent hip-hop disc jockey and writer Bobbito Garcia, who will speak April 6 at Carnegie Mellon largely due to the instructors' efforts.

For their final exam, Sneakerology students take part in "Kicksburgh," an April 15 campus event with vendors and artists that celebrates the city's urban fashion and footwear.

On a recent night in Doherty Hall, the class seemed well versed in sneaker history as students asked questions and in some cases took notes. One student even debated Mr. Curtis politely over which Air Jordan model Mr. Jordan wore during the 1985-86 basketball season -- before either student was born.

As versions of the Air Jordan flashed onto a large screen, Mr. Curtis rattled off their unique traits: The model seen in Spike Lee's film "Do the Right Thing"; the first one with a reflective tongue showing a Jordan logo; the first shoe released after Mr. Jordan's second retirement; even the model inspired by women's high heels.

Mr. Curtis apologized for speaking fast.

"We've got to get through 24 models," he said.

Another session featured a live video chat from Boston with two Carnegie Mellon graduates who now are design apprentices for Reebok. They fielded questions about their work and the kinds of office hours they keep.

One questioner couldn't resist lobbying for what would probably be a sneaker-lover's nirvana.

"Tell them to pick me as an intern."