Lost and Found: The Currency of Nostalgia

Before we talk about the Jordan 1 Chicago “Lost and Found,” let’s set the stage for what’s led up to Nike crafting their latest permutation of this beloved colorway.

If you even remotely pay attention to sneaker spaces, there’s no doubt your feed has seen at least a few pairs of retro Jordan silhouettes that have been altered to fit a “neo-vintage” style. Shoes are being dyed, distressed, and even given pseudo glue stains thanks to the folks like Foxtrot Uniform out of Singapore. Foxtrot’s IG feed is full of photos of cooked, vintage sneakers dressed in their signature distressed laces – paying homage to a bygone time. Arguably the golden age of sneaker design. A few years ago I admired everything accounts like Foxtrot were trying to do. It felt like a love letter to the designs Peter Moore developed at Nike during the early ‘80s. But that was then, and this is now. The shine has, ironically, quickly removed itself from the whole idea of an artificially aged sneaker. I would much rather scuff, tear, and separated my shoes the old-fashioned way – putting in the time. Spend years grafting memories onto the leather, cutting my own story into a shoe. Running them into the ground and imbuing them with something that’s just for me. That’s not to say I can’t still appreciate the craft and painstaking process required to properly replicate the aged appearance, it just feels… a little tired. Possessing a fondness for the relative genesis of sneaker culture doesn’t necessarily require us to put it to the business end of an Exacto knife. I’d argue that a little patience goes a long way.

That being said, it’s no surprise that the suits at Nike pounced on this opportunity to cash in on consumer interest, dealing in what I’ll call a “currency of nostalgia.“ Stock numbers were rumored to be around half a million pairs for tier-zero retailers worldwide. Which makes this the largest Jordan 1 release in recent memory. But we’ve seen Jordan brand testing the waters for a sneaker with an aged motif more than once this year (Probably to avoid the consumer backlash they faced from the pre-vintage AJKO released in 2010). Much to the frustration of those awaiting shoes that haven’t properly retroed in well over a decade – Military Blue 4s, for example – several models released this year have been suspiciously reminiscent of OG colorways. All of them, however, with a slightly vintage twist.

As much some of us might want White Cement 3s and Military Blue 4s every year on and on into eternity, Nike is a multi-billion dollar corporation with a lot of red tape. And like any billion dollar corporation, it’s going to prioritize the interests of shareholders over the whims of its consumers. But even in a perfect world where we got everything we wanted, this leaves no room for innovation from new creators and completely ignores the rest of the world not privy to sneaker culture. Nike generates an obscene amount of revenue every year, with Jordan Brand’s $5b only weighing in at approximately 15% of their total sales. They have to create product that can appeal to 8 billion people worldwide. Unfortunately, this usually means waiting for a retro for years, and in some cases, decades. After a few mean creases and a little toe drag, we start to collectively wonder “when is the next one coming around?” (still waiting on those military blue 4s).

The last time we saw a Chicago 1 high was 2015, but the folks at Nike have been mercilessly teasing us with ‘85 cuts for a few years. So, it was only a matter of time until an ‘85 retro with Chicago color blocking had its holiday-season fling with the neo-vintage aesthetic. While this newest iteration doesn’t have quite the same shape as its namesake, it does pay homage to everything else about its origin. 

Anyone that’s worked in retail knows what it’s like to slave away in a dark and often musty stock room – cataloging new inventory, processing returns, and endlessly updating numbers in a digital spreadsheet. But, if you were doing it 37 years ago, you were doing it all manually. Inventory systems of that era were, obviously, devoid of computers, and because retail employees are only human, occasionally, stock was misplaced and forgotten. They became waylaid objects lost to time. It’s the type of thing you’d pass ten times on a busy shift and never think twice about: some dusty box with a mismatched lid. Shoved to the back corner of a bottom shelf and left to gather dust. A board-lasted treasure waiting to be found and realized for what it truly is – aging like a wine you probably couldn’t afford 20-years later.

For those who have been fortunate enough to escape the madness of the retail experience, or are just unfamiliar with sneakers, maybe it’s closer to helping your parents move out of your childhood home. An afternoon spent emptying a crowded attic filled with carefully stacked cardboard boxes. You might indiscriminately pour their contents onto the floor after you pulled them from the dusty gate of rusted bicycles and Christmas decorations. Perhaps there you would find the cobwebbed enclosures of a forgotten memory. Maybe a prom dress, an action figure, or an album full of yellowed photographs – something that once held meaning, relegated to years of neglect. Despite its lack of utility, it would possess you with the inexplicable urge to liberate it from obscurity.  Regardless of its condition. Because the tangible form something takes matters less than its nature.

That feeling is the thing – the essence of the “Lost and Found” project. It feels analog… kinetic. It’s a wearable module for exploring the past. Rubber, glue, and cuts of leather are pulled together, allowing you to take a step back in time. Back when Nike was struggling to break ground in the uncharted territory of professional basketball. Back to the days and hours before Michael Jordan would ascend to the golden halls of athletic godhood. Regardless of how I might feel about the neo-vintage trend, or the monetary goals of Nike as a corporation, this shoe has soul. It is arguably the best storytelling that’s ever accompanied a general release from Jordan Brand. MJ’s mythical prowess and tenacity as a competitor is usually the extent of swoosh’s story craft when it comes to shoes he actually wore on the court. But this? This does something different. It looks to the people for inspiration. The old heads who have spent hours of their lives standing in line, in some cases risking their lives, just for a piece of the greatest player of all time. It pays respect to the thrill of the hunt, the determination and persistence of collectors who spend years attempting to track down their grails. Thrifting, haggling, praying their way to the big bang of sneaker culture: the ‘85 Jordan 1.

Cracked leather covers the vamp and side panels, and collar, mimicking the look and feel of something that’s genuinely spent nearly 40 years in the dark corners of a stock room or storage locker. The swoosh is bigger and the wings logo is embossed, overall truer to the ‘85 tooling than more current releases . The subtlest amount of oxidation tints the midsole, pairing nicely with the ever so sail-colored tongue. Chalky-white stains cover the traction pattern of the unmistakable outsole. All these elements are contained within the folded walls of a weathered box – complete with a mock receipt and images of original print ads – and topped with mix-matched, period-accurate lid. Much to the surprise of my cynicism, it somehow threads the needle between too much and not enough. Sole-to-collar, this is a beautiful shoe. And the accoutrement only adds to its palpable nostalgia. The “Lost and Found” concept is so much better than I ever anticipated, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still (always) have a bone to pick with Nike. My gripe has to do with everything they got right. Let’s lace up our new sneakers and travel back to October 26, 1984.

Nike has just signed a five-year contract with a 21-year-old Michael Jordan. Who, by the way, has yet to play a single game of professional basketball. Fortunately, we have the advantage of 37-years worth of context that tells us this was one of the most profitable, if not the most profitable brand deal of all time. But, at this point in Nike’s mythology, it had yet to establish itself as the global institution we all know and (sometimes) love today. In the February of that same year, the company reported its first quarterly loss in revenue since its inception in 1973. As you’re probably aware, MJ wasn’t all that impressed with Nike and, by all accounts, he was right to be skeptical of a company with no real presence in the NBA. Converse ruled the court, and it was well known Jordan wanted to sign with Adidas. With a little help from MJ’s manager and his parents, he finally sat down to hear what Nike had to say. Their deal involved a signature shoe along an outrageous amount of money for a rookie: $500,000 per year with a signing bonus of $250,000. Not too shabby for someone with literally no professional experience – especially when other elite players were getting a third of that. The real winner, however, was Nike. They modified one of their best-selling silhouettes, the Air Ship, and turned them into what became a global symbol of culture and athleticism. Nike expected to make $3 million in sales their first year, but due to MJ’s infamous rookie season, they sold well over $120 million in Air Jordans. Again, not too shabby.

That, I think, is the most important part as it relates to the “Lost and Found” concept.

Nike had to somehow convince small businesses across the country to carry a product that had no intrinsic value – outside of their acclaimed air unit technology. Jordan had yet to show the world what he capable of, and sporting good stores like the fictional,“Sandy Bros Sports Depot” featured in this packaging, had to trust that Nike knew what they were doing. As time went on, all parties shared in Jordan’s success on and off the court, but time stops for no one. Not even Nike. Eventually, the Jordan 1 would fall victim to markdowns like any other shoe. Watching more technologically advanced sneakers hit the shelves. You could pick up a pair of Bred Air Jordan 1s for $15. Hearing that price always stings…

But that’s what makes this concept so ironically tone deaf. Last year, Nike ended innumerable accounts with businesses just like this Sandy Bros. Sports Depot in favor of a direct-to-consumer model with “40 strategic retail partners.” All under the guise of being more in favor of the consumer. But anyone that’s tried to buy exclusive Nike product in the last few years knows that’s a joke. Call me old fashioned, but it feels incredibly odd for a brand – who removed their product from stores with whom they had longstanding partnerships – to honor retailers with a product they’re no longer allowed to carry.

Now, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical, it’s-just-business reason for this whole situation that I simply don’t understand… that won’t stop me from complaining about it. Nevertheless, as much as I want to turn my nose up at Nike on a matter of principle, I have no doubt that members of their design teams poured their love for the culture into this project. I think that’s reason enough to give them, and the circumstances around this shoe, a pass. Because somewhere out there in Beaverton, Oregon, there’s a sneakerhead trying their hardest to honor the Jordan 1’s legacy with a good story. I thought that once I had this shoe in hand, its allure would fizzle out – falling between my fingers like sand passing through an hour glass. I though it might prove itself an uninspired glimmer of what it should have been.

I can honestly say… I am thrilled to be wrong.