For Robyn Addis, collecting sneakers represents an awakening earned through blood, bandages, and blisters that eventually turned into a 70-pair collection of shoes.
For Mike “Meech” Milici, collecting has become a representation of love passed perhaps through his own blood, which now shares his 100-pair collection.
Advertisem*nt
Ahead of the Saturday’s Got Sole sneaker convention at the Greater Philadelphia Expo Center, The Inquirer asked some locals why they began collecting.
» READ MORE: The Got Sole Philly sneaker convention is coming. Here’s what you need to know.
“Showing up in a pair of sneakers,” Addis said, “has become an outward representation of how comfortable I am with who I am as a person.”
Vibes and value
Shedding blood in the concrete jungle wasn’t exactly what Addis had in mind when she stepped off a train at New York’s Penn Station years ago.
“What’s the saying,” Addis said, “anything to look good in heels?”
Now 41, Addis recalls scouting potential locations in New York City during her mid-20s while she worked as an event planner at a law firm.
After click-clacking along city sidewalks for three or four miles, Addis says her feet were blistered and bloodied.
“I even had to stop at a [convenience store] to buy Band-Aids so I could wrap my toes in my heels,” she said. “I was a glutton for punishment back then.”
“I was so miserable by the end of the day,” she added later, “that I told myself never again.”
She had always loved shoes. Her father, after all, called her Imelda Marcos, the former first lady of the Philippines who once infamously owned 3,000 pairs of shoes.
For Addis, however, that bloody day in the city sparked an evolution toward authenticity.
Fast-forward more than a decade and Addis is now a married mother of three who, last fall, went to an industry convention wearing a black pair of Vans, a black business suit, and a graphic T-shirt that read: “Never underestimate the power of a woman.”
“I think I’ve just leaned into this whole vibe,” she said, “where I’m not trying to reclaim a younger version of myself, but I’m just super comfortable with who I am.”
“I’ve finally gotten to the point where I totally know who I am,” she added later. “I’m not dressing for anybody else. I’m not buying shoes for anybody else. Instead, it’s about what makes me happy and I’m showing up authentically as myself.”
» READ MORE: Sneakerheads line up for Nike Dunk Low ‘Philly’ shoes at Center City store
For the current Narberth resident who grew up in Northern Virginia just outside Washington, D.C., that also has meant emerging from the role of “people-pleaser.”
“Often, people like us can tend to deprioritize ourselves,” she said, “so what I would say is that this has all been part of figuring out my worth, my value, owning it, loving it, and being happy with who I am.”
Her husband, Bill, is a firefighter in Upper Darby and, she says, is supportive of her collection because it “makes me happy.”
But Addis’ collection isn’t just about sneakers. She also owns heels, flats, sandals, and espadrilles.
Still, her customized “Eagles green” Nike Air Force 1s illustrate the evolution of a girl who grew up with no knowledge of football, went to St. Joseph’s, and then became a woman who grew to love Philly sports teams.
Back in May, Addis was the 118th person in line when the Nike Dunk Low “Philly” shoes released at Lapstone & Hammer. Currently, she also is waiting for a customized pair of hand-painted Phillies-themed sneakers to arrive from Florida.
“I think the most important thing is you don’t have to spend a lot of money,” she said. “It goes back to how you feel about yourself. It should be because it makes you happy and fills your cup. … It should really just be a source of joy for yourself.”
Family affair
Milici, 45, has witnessed the evolution of sneaker culture as a buyer and seller, though he doesn’t consider himself a collector, per se.
“Because I wear them all,” he said. “I don’t really collect them to hold onto them.”
» READ MORE: The story behind the Nike ‘Philly’ Dunks, featuring a color-changing swoosh and plenty of local Easter eggs
The Northeast Philly native still remembers taking off from school when the original Jordan 6s were released in 1992.
“It was easy back then,” he said. “You could just hop into a mall.”
Certain websites, he said, have made it difficult to make a profit buying and reselling sneakers these days.
Ten to 15 years ago, however, Milici flipped sneakers at considerable profits, which, he says, helped feed five hungry boys at home.
“That’s what got me back into it,” he said. “I would be online late at night. They would release them at midnight, so you had to stay up all night and just hope you got them.”
There were times he bought a pair of Kanye West’s Adidas Yeezys for $220 and resold them online for $2,800.
“It was incredible, man,” he said. “It was like an adrenaline rush. That’s how sneaker releases became big. You had to prepare for them.”
He even knew how to manipulate internet browsers to improve his chances of nabbing the latest purchase. These days, though, he just enjoys watching his son’s embrace sneaker culture.
» READ MORE: The newest add to Bryson Stott’s 150-pair sneaker collection? The Philly Nike Dunks
Milici and three of his sons wear Size 12s, so his collection has become community property. He estimates they have about 100 pairs between them.
His oldest son, Joey, 23, graduated from Duquesne last year and is a software engineer.
“It was cool because [Joey] saw me pretty much getting a new pair of sneakers almost every weekend and I would get them in his size, too,” Milici said.
About a decade ago, Milici took Joey to the Sneaker Con convention in Washington, where Joey bought and sold a few pairs.
Though not through sneakers as much anymore, Joey’s entrepreneurial spirit lives on. Occasionally he buys old, broken video game controllers, fixes, and then resells them. The buzz around sneaker culture, Joey said, doesn’t excite him as it once did.
“It used to mean something when you had a pair of Yeezys,” he said. “Now, pretty much everyone has them.”
But the bond built with his dad remains. It’s a bond he plans to share when he has children of his own.
“For sure, I’ll never stop,” Joey said. “I think my dad still has pairs of infant Jordans that I’ve worn. They’ve always been [with us]. I’ll always enjoy a nice pair of sneakers.”
