Whatever happened to the limited edition game? Most say that the oversaturation caused by companies giving sneaker heads what they wanted killed the scene. Some collectors find themselves with a stagnant jackpot of rare, hard-to-find kicks that are even harder to offload. Like so many others, Arman Marwah has created a blog in order to sell off his once prized collection of sneaks - Limited Edition Feet. Having amassed a killer crate courtesy of working within the Nike empire and spending hours lining up for that elusive prize, one look at what he has on offer will make most cream with envy. A lack of space and a new direction in life made it time to close the door on this sneaker head's expensive era. We got the 411 directly from Arman as to why he has made this decision to move on...
I was born and raised in Hong Kong, a city that at the time was largely isolated from the sneaker scene. I grew up with an American mother and Indian father, as a member of the expat community. Being in Asia, I was never able to find kicks in my size. I learned to appreciate my parent's work trips overseas, which would result in a new pair of running or skate shoes for me to show off in gym class. This was the extent of my involvement in sneakers until I turned sixteen when, for family reasons, I moved to New York with my mother.
The first students I met at my new school were what we today classify as ‘sneaker heads'. I saw their subculture - which seemed to transcend gender, race, economic status and religion - as a way to fit in. After experiencing a life revolving around release dates and earning money for my habit, I began to appreciate sneakers as an art form rather than just a way to fit into a social group. As I delved further into the niche market of limited edition shoes I saw many opportunities to make money, sometimes turning a profit upwards of $1000 on a single pair. My collection and knowledge would eventually lead to becoming a member of a youth research team Nike started with Wieden+Kennedy, thus gaining me an internship with Nike's Hong Kong advertising agency Razorfish.
It seemed as though sneaker collecting had led to many fruitful opportunities, but my collection was exceeding the size of my bedroom. I was checking Highsnobiety, Sneakernews, Hypebeast, Freshnessmag and Sneaker Freaker on the regular (more than I'd like to admit) and spending even more time lining up outside sneaker stores on the Lower East Side for new releases. Whilst I told myself I would stop at 365 (enough for a pair a day), I had a realisation when I hit adulthood and my collection had grown to over 200 pairs. It dawned on me that I had essentially become a shopaholic using new shoes as a way to achieve fleeting happiness. In addition to this, I would soon be off to college with no real way of bringing my collection along. This epiphany, along with watching the market overflow with limited editions (effectively making the label ‘limited edition' meaningless) made me come to terms with the fact that it was time to end my addiction and leave sneakers behind for good.
I may keep five to ten pairs that I busted to cop or which have that certain sentimental value, including my favorite pair - the adidas adicolor low BK1 with Colette. I I don't regret the enjoyment I had as a result of collecting sneakers. The camp-outs, getting to work with Nike and all the people I met as a result were great times. But I lost sight of the business aspect of it and at the end of the day was left with a great deal of shoes that I couldn't possibly find enough time to wear, and that I had all but physically grown out of.
Words and images courtesy of Arman Marwah