All posts by hamishcraig

Shoes

Does the Skepta x Puma Deal Make Sense?

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Since Grime MC Legend, DJ, Producer, Actor and artist Skepta’s Nike contract ended earlier this year, he has wasted no time in finding another brand to keep his feet laced. What may at first have seemed like an unlikely partnership may actually have been the best move for the newly found music label and German footwear company.

We firstly got hints at a possible Nike collaboration way back in 2014, before any SK Air logo hit the streets of London (lots of people thought this was a Sadiq Kahn collab which could have been lowkey fire). Skepta and a few BBK members donned what looked like an exclusive all black Nike Tracksuit on stage at Red Bull Culture Clash, a subtle large swoosh across the chest.

This was before the Swoosh was coming out with clothing encompassing large logos and about two years before Virgil had released his The Ten collection. I mention this collection to say, after witnessing the consumers reception, there was a huge directional change in terms of design philosophy, adopting their ethos from someone who birthed brands such as Off White and Hood By Air. The tracksuit BBK members were wearing on stage at Culture Clash was supposedly designed by Skepta himself and had tapped into something different before the brand itself had even realised it. The MC even had a bit of a Kanye moment a year or so down the line in 2015 suggesting in an interview that the brand had been difficult to work with and were being finicky when it came to the contract details.

As we all know now, Skepta’s run of Air Max’s all did exceptionally well with is first release, the 97 arguably being the best of the bunch. All of his shoes had its own unique spin, even the “No Sleep on Tour” inspired Air Max Deluxe. Unfortunately this one felt most like Nike’s attempt to add much-desired traction onto a silhouette they had retro’d for that year (2018) only to receive a mixed reception.

After the release of the Tailwind 5’s in the two colourways, Skepta’s five shoe deal was over and he was a free agent once again. This was also made clear by the abundance of Prada America Cup’s and other high end fashion shoe’s he was rocking on his socials. Whilst he is by no means alien to high fashion, he made it abundantly clear that no sportswear brands were getting any unpaid shine till a cheque was cleared. Much to everyone’s surprise, he debuted the announcement that Big Smoke Corp was signing a deal with Puma. Whilst a large portion of his fans don’t see this as a wise idea, I beg to differ.

We’ve recently seen New Balance blow up the last two years with their solid releases of old models and great roster of collaborations. However, in my opinion this hype train can only go on for so long before it eventually gets slowed down by the ever-changing trends. Puma is a brand that has not been ‘on top’ since the Puma Suede’s had a moment back in 2012. This was the precursor to the Stan Smith moment that occurred shortly after that. You know for a fact that every teenage girl and boy were hitting up Schuh and Office walking out feeling funky fresh in their new Stan Smith’s. Many PE lessons were seldom filled with Bethany arguing her pair was better than Tallulah’s because she had pink lace tips, a detail she looks back on now as the birthing of her wokeness. #Slay?

Ten years have passed  since then, with brands like Asics having their Gel Lyte era, adidas Boost doing its thing and now New Balance with their current reign. All have basked in their temporary time in the Sun, only to be eventually blocked out by Nike, once they had figured out how to catch up. With this logical pattern in mind, I think Puma is set to have a rise within the next two to three years. They have shown some promise with silhouettes such as the Thunder Spectra selling out back in 2019, a shoe which provided sneaker heads with a more accessible alternative to the Wave Runner 700 which debuted back in 2017. They also had steady success with their RS Runner lines which can be seen on foot in your local City if you pay close attention. Puma has proved they can successfully collaborate with celebrities as we’ve seen with their majorly successful Puma x Fenty line. Rhianna clearly does a lot to sell this product through the sheer weight of her name however the marketing for the shoes were also a huge factor behind its success. The partnership ended after the 2018 summer collection but this was after a few years of consistently high sales.

I see no reason why Big Smoke Corp’s collaboration can’t do the same. Skepta clearly has proven himself at Nike with the ability to resonate with sneakerheads both in the UK and across the pond. Whilst his choice of Air Max silhouettes was backed with personal attachments and memories, this was only a partial factor in the success of his shoes. Whilst Skepta’s history with Puma as a product may be sparse, it is no problem for him to paint a picture (pardon the pun) when it comes to storytelling. For example, it’s not like Stormzy was rocking Gazelles during Northampton away at Rochdale, whilst on the piss with the lads and tucking into a Pucka Pie (don’t compromise). Yet he still managed to make the adidas tracksuit massively popular again with his Fire in the Park music video. Both him and Kanye made the black adi Tracksuit bottoms practically uniform back in the run of 2015 to 2017. This just goes to show how an artist can adopt an entirely new product or brand and make it their own. If you want another and more direct example of this simply look at Skepta’s Ed Hardy era of style and how he embraced that brand. This was a total 180 compared to the 2015 That’s Not Me era of a simple white T shirt and black tracksuit combinations. The guy can undoubtedly switch it up without anyone blinking an eye. This being said, there is a whole lot more attention on the artist now than there was even back in 2015 so his moves are being increasingly watched.

He recently took to the art world with his debut painting, Mamma Goes to Market. This was sold, along with a curated collection from friends and artists, in London’s Sotheby’s. The painting went for double its max expected sale price at £80,000 pounds. It is almost as if everything he touches turns to gold and I can’t see that changing for in relation to his current footwear deal.

Now we don’t know about the final ins and outs of the contracts at the moment. For all we know it could be like the UFC’s previous Reebok deal in which we saw Dana’s athletes obligingly wear the product for cage walks and press events. This could be the same for the Big Smoke Corp deal as artist under the label may have to wear a certain amount of Puma product in order to be part of the musical umbrella. Think signing your contract with BSC, receiving the silver razor blade chain, then getting handed a pair of Puma Suede’s and having to remove your pair of high-end kicks you bought in anticipation of your contract signing. Goals? I mean I wouldn’t mind, throw me some Puma Rockets instead and we’re sound.

We can see Skepta already appearing in Puma shoes and clothing over on his Instagram. He wore a simple black and white colourway when making the short walk to his private jet and also during his performance at New York Fashion Week. Whilst the brand is small compared to the likes of Nike and adidas, it has got an extensive catalogue and rich history to tap into. Take a look in Sneaker Freaker’s Soled Out and you can not only see the history for yourself, but how popular the cat was too.

If Skepta and Puma work together to hit the right notes, there is no way they can fail. All they need is a release of meaningful collaborations and excellent marketing, the rest is up to sneakerheads to realise once again how cool Puma is as a brand. I do however realise this is easier said than done. With the support of his english fanbase alone, I think the people are more than ready to back him on yet another venture. Here’s hoping Puma’s new deal with Big Smoke Corp is a success for everyone involved and we get great products as a result.

Poetry

September Poetry: large coconuts, small earth

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The world’s not that big. 
Sure, 
it can take a while 
to get from one side to the other, 
but that don’t make it big. 
The only thing that makes it 
big, 
are the people in it. 
The ones who strive for a 
happy life, 
a simple life. 

He would sell coconuts on the 
side of the road, 
the Pan-American highway to be exact. 
On the border of Ecuador 
he would see the various faces of the world 
drive by. 
Some would even stop for the green, 
hollow things stacked up on his plastic table.
It was from a rickety old chair 
his grandpa had once sat on, 
where he would watch
it all pass by. 
He had never strayed too far from the 
four legged, wooden thing, 
lay between his legs.
Too afraid he’d find the edge of the 
world and fall off. 
Grandpa would always say, 
	“Come back soon Nestor, 
and for goodness sake make sure you 
	don’t fall off.” 
Everyone used to think he was crazy, 
	they’d chuckle when he would 
mention anything about the edge. 
Soon enough 
	the same people who laughed 
headed off in search for another 
corner of the earth, 
never to be seen again. 
no letters, 
no messages, 
no nothing. 
Soon people stopped laughing, 
their ears pricking up every time the old 
man would start 
	spouting wisdom. 
People laugh at what they don’t 
understand. 
	I used to do the same back then 
and maybe too much even now. 
However since he passed 
I stick to the chair, 
	the coconuts before me 
and stay well away from that edge. 
The world is smaller 
	than its own stories. 
The world is smaller 
	Without Grandpa and his chair.
Poetry

September Poetry: Conflicted Movement

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She said,
“I’m upset you didn’t dance with me”,
my englishness held me back.
Reserved,
too proud to dance.
I stood there on the side lines 
watching the people have 
fun,
fighting an urge,
embarrassed to break the rigid
paper mache mask I am still
wearing.

It is made of yesterday’s headlines.

I remember hearing the local band,
Humans together bringing the world
something profound with their music.
I was with my family,
yet again I felt it,
my soul being illuminated,
my eyes begin to water
as I pay witness
to the joy of people feeling free.
It’s part of the culture,
accepting the bodies imperfections
in how it sways and flings 
to the pulsating sounds of
the music.

“I’m upset you didn’t dance with me”
I acknowledged this 
with a great sadness.
She wouldn’t have known.
We connected through a similar
background,
certain values ingrained in us
through growing up.
She moved her hips more freely,
was this because she was a
girl?
a poor excuse.
she’d been less exposed to the
rigid culture that held so many 
of the brits back.

“keep calm and carry on”
“sit tight, it’ll be over soon”
“stiffen that upper lip”
How can I enjoy the freedom 
of salsa or the soul in
cumbia 
when I have 
constricted my limbs of movement 
or my heart of expression?

Flags are free to move 
however they so choose.
The wind encourages them every day,
but the long, white pole they hang off
reminds them of the duties they 
must 
represent.

The union jack dances the same
way the peruvian flag dances
in the wind.
I choose to be formless,
free to move
but not forgetful of what,
or who, 
I am.
Fiction

Short fiction: PLEAsE KEEP IN LINE

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He waited for his train on the platform. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten this particular train ride, nor would it be the last. He was familiar with gravel underfoot. The two yellow lines dancing too and froe as they always did. There were lines everywhere. Escaping them wasn’t really a possibility. ‘Don’t cross the line’ his Boss would say. ‘Please wait in line’ the pharmacy sign would order. The Nazca Lines out in Peru was the last time he enjoyed seeing anything associated with that word. They were more large-scale pieces of art, not exactly line-like in the common sense of the term. Fed up, he kicked the ground underneath him. This would do nothing except scuff the bottom of his shoe, another visit to the local cobbler the only outcome of that repeated action. Often, he’d find himself refraining from things that would cost him money in the future. Not that he had much. That was the problem. His mum had always told him that he walked a narrow path, in other words a straight line. Sadly, that wasn’t the straight line to success. If it was, it was way off in the distance, so far he couldn’t see it just yet. Although his vision wasn’t one of perfection either, avoiding the opticians had saved him a few quid but probably cost him more in the long run.

If only he had been born into wealth, he thought. Silk pyjamas, silver wear and grandiose halls would await him as his eyes would creep open. Instead, he woke up to the dim light of the streetlamp, his curtain a weak excuse for fabric. They’d be better off being used as shower curtains, or even if he botched up some Prom dress out of it and sold it to some poor student trying to make one final impression on the boy she’d fancied all these years. She’d make an impression alright, but it would unlikely be the one she’d hoped for. At least that would avoid any evening debauchery. Prom nights had the tendency for taking people off track. One night they’d be a King heading for a prestigious University on a full scholarship, next they’d be a family man working a nine to five at the local construction site, feeding the kid he abruptly brought into his world. Sometimes he wished he’d had that. At least that way he’d have a family to go home to at the end of the night. Someone who’d always smile and wave their hands in the air when he was in the room, that sounded nice. He barely got a glance these days. The old ladies stopped being nice to him too, that was when he really hit a low. When the old start realising, you’re more miserable than them, that’s when you’re really in the shit.

Poetry

September Poetry: a ziplock bag

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Pigeon art piece from Whitechapel Gallery
For the most part,
he kept his heart in a zip lock bag.
That way less people would 
ask him if he had one.
A question he grew tired of.
Course he had one.
Silly question. 

It was like asking the sky if it was blue.
Yes, sometimes it looked grey,
but even the sky got tired 
of being the same colour. 

He would leave it
sat next to him
when eating his lunch 
at the local park.

The pigeons would bob their head
and move in closer,
thinking if they lingered for long enough,
they'd get a piec;
his heart an escaped crumb
from a loveless granary loaf.

They didn't know any better.

Neither did the children who would
stare as they were dragged past
by their mother's hand.
'Anyone told you it was rude to stare'
I'd think to myself.
It was no use however,
Children were curious beings.
They probably wondered why 
I was feeding my heart to 
the pigeons,
the pigeons wondered why I 
wasn't.

Regardless,
it sagged over on itself
looking disgruntled.

I should have probably
written my name on it,
across one of the semi translucent
white lines,
just incase I did ever misplace it.

How long could I go without it?
There are lots of people wanting 
a replacement these day.
Suppose I never got it back,
that wouldn't be ideal.

What if the sky never turned blue again?
Would the birds refuse to sing?
One thing for sure is that
the pigeons would still be hungry.
Fiction

Short Fiction: Reflections

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He sat at his desk unable to write. Something he had done for many years with no qualms or disturbances beforehand. This was a most unusual feeling for him. Work was fun to him. The spreadsheets, the maths, all of that was a world he was familiar with. A different kind of language that did not need emotions or a sorry or even a thank you. It had been over fourteen years since he had seen her, left her that late afternoon on the edge of the woods. He hadn’t given it much thought since had he been honest with himself. That was something he became very good at, blocking certain memories out. Yet, for him to even begin putting pen to paper, reliving those memories, would be a whole lot more than necessary. It would be vital. An apology from the heart is what she deserved after all. All those years wondering where he had gone. There had been no phones then in which to track him. One minute they were together and the next they were strangers. The five previous years clearly an indication of nothing. A meaningless flitter of laughs and cries that ultimately fell on deaf ears. Her face. He remembered seeing her face in the wing mirror. That was the one thing that did stay with him and an image he could never shake.

He would see it when on the way to work, the bus’ wing mirror staring back at him whilst waiting to get on. He stopped getting the bus after a while. The train was about the only place void of reflections but even then, early starts meant the windows on the train turned into one long bathroom mirror. In those fourteen years he would have expected to forget what she looked like. He even managed to for a few months. He worked from home and took down the mirror on the bathroom cabinet, brushing his teeth was just about manageable that way.

She had almost disappeared from memory until Christmas rolled around. His parents would not listen to his excuses this time, forcing him to come over for the roast this year. He’d have to put up with the questions and his sister’s fiancé, but that was not what did it. His parents had handed him over a box shaped present which he reluctantly unwrapped. Presents at Christmas had never been his thing, especially seeing as he was trying to avoid any unnecessary attention this year. Pulling down the wrapping paper he saw the picture of a small mirror on a swivel. ‘Bout time you had a shave’, his dad said laughing, the others chuckled with him, ‘go on then, open it up’. Hesitant didn’t begin to describe how he felt, thinking if he got the formality of smiling out the way, his parents would go back to praising his sister. He yanked at the object in the box, and it suddenly came loose. There it was the shaving mirror looking back at him in shock. He had not seen his face this close for months. He had barely recognised himself. His face was a lot hairier and podgier; the evening beers had taken its toll. As he began to touch his face, discovering his aging-self, she appeared behind his shoulder. All those months vanished in that moment as he was back to the way he felt on his morning commute. She had never left. She was stood behind his shoulder all this time, only he could never see her. Without a reflection, she didn’t exist.

Poetry

August Poetry: Primrose Hill

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The city lay in front of everyone, 
a model village to them, 
they had never felt so big. 
A city that once swallowed them up 
with its’ big skyscrapers and wall art 
now seemed all so small. 

“London eye, London eye” 
a little child called out. 
A large spinning wheel now 
fit between his two fingers. 
He tried pinching it, but it wouldn’t seem to 
move. 
A panorama of symbols 
filled the landscape, 
from edge to edge 
a focus point merely blurring them out. 
They would never disappear. 

Sprawled out before them, 
an extravagant banquet. 
A feast fit for royalty. 
often gobbled up by 
those who sat 
in quiet halls 
in which ceilings remained 
inexplicably high 
along with their standards of life. 

There stood as many cranes as there were 
high-rises. 
A future that pointed towards 
the sky, 
hinting at growth, 
but only in the literal sense. 
What was the cost? 
Soon the skyline would be full 
each building bigger than the other, 
a concrete competition. 

Yet, 
the people wouldn’t change, 
staying as they had been, 
even shrinking. 
An earth that could no longer feed them 
through the greed of those sat in their vast spaces. 
They would carry on starving 
as the towers 
would gorge themselves on 
the sun that reigned above them, 
casting a shadow amongst those 
that built them, 
that birthed 
these monstrous 
Giants of the sky.
Shoes

Which pair of shoes would I take for a grand adventure?

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“My shoes, damn fool that I am, were Mexican huaraches, plantlike sieves not fit for the rainy night of America and the raw road night.”

– On the Road page 12

“Montana Slim turned to me, pointed at my shoes, and commented, ‘You reckon if you put them things in the ground something’ll grow up?’ – without cracking a smile, of course, and the other boys heard him and laughed. And they were the silliest shoes in America; I brought them along specifically because I didn’t want my feet to sweat in the hot road, and except for the rain in Bear Mountain they proved to be the best possible shoes for my journey. So I laughed with them. And the shoes were pretty ragged by now, the bits of colored leather sticking up like pieces of a fresh pineapple and my toes showing through.”

On the Road page 27

These two quotes I highlighted when reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road because it raised an interesting point; what shoes would you take on a huge road trip? An easy question at first but ultimately an important one. When I recently went to Peru back in the beginning of this year I ended up taking 3 pairs. The Solomon Speedcross 4 Gore tex’s for hikes, Nike Air Max Deluxe’s for getting about the cities and some LA Sportiva Approach shoes for any muddy terrain. The shoes I ended up undoubtably wearing the most were my La Sportiva’s because they were simply the most comfortable. Had I only been able to take one pair, I would have probably opted for the Deluxe’s simply for the fact that they would look good when looking back at any photos from the trip. In hindsight, what we wear on foot should be first and foremost comfortable.

With the recent knowledge I have gathered about minimal footwear and the benefits it has for the body, I would definitely consider a pair of Mexican Huaraches myself. Like the experience of the main protagonist, I would no doubt be the brunt of some jokes, but ultimately avoiding injuries by being more balanced would give me the last laugh. Not to mention I’d end up with some funky tan lines. It’d have my foot looking like that ridiculous foot tattoo that guy had of a Nike TN.

Poetry

August Poetry: Brazil, Books, Beaches

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I dream of Brazil,
I dream of listening to bosa nova 
music in a café whilst eating my breakfast.
I lift up a cup of warm coffee,
a taste unfamiliar to me more than 
a few months ago but one that 
now greets my lips like an old friend.
The novel I’m reading is 
sat on the table,
much like I’m sat next to it,
resting yet again until
I breathe life into it
or more so,
until it breathes life into me.
My pulse tempers as I
flick through the pages,
my mind anywhere but here,
any time but now.
I place the book down,
pausing to stare at the 
frolicking waves to my side.
Out there,
	there is nothing for miles,
	no land for mankind.
	Good, 
keep it that way.
Leave the fish to swim,
	whilst I finish this cup of coffee.
Miscelanious

My Favourite Vintage T shirt’s

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I recently picked up a new vintage T shirt. Surprise, surprise. I suppose for those of you who don’t now me on a personal level, it would be a surprise. So lets just say it’s very on-brand for me. Seeing @thewonderfulflight post on their Instagram story one Sunday, that their “£10 pound rail was back”, I felt it only right to check it out. Having picked up about 15 or so vintage t shirts from this closing down sale in Middlesbrough only the day before, I most likely should have skipped his opportunity however I could not resist. I justified it to myself as a pre-gym pitstop, nothing more, nothing less.

I arrived about 20 minutes later, taking a leisurely commute on my trusty Raleigh Road bike, as it was a pleasant summers day. Seeing the rail outside, I confirmed with guy working the shop that it was in fact the £10 section. I scoured the rails and eventually found two t shirts I was fond of. One of them was this pale-yellow t shirt with this cool stick figure graphic in which the faces were monochromatic. Very hip. The other one which I slightly preferred was a very light-pink t shirt with a wholesome, lettering graphic on the front. “Coolest Grandpa in the World” it read. Or at least that’s what I thought it read. I’m all for ironic t shirt’s, and whilst I am pretty sure that I am not a grandpa, I thought it would be a whimsical thought for anyone reading the t shirt to have. Trying them both on, I confirmed I looked Andre 3 stacks and headed to the counter to purchase them.

One sweaty gym session later and I was headed to my friends for a takeaway. The meal was wolfed down in no time at all as I had built up quite the appetite. Eventually the fact that I had gone and purchased yet again more vintage t shirts had become the talking point. “ahh here we go, what did you get this time?” asked my mate, rolling his eyes back.

“Nah trust these are actually too cool” I replied, unzipping my bag, getting ready to show them. I prewarned them as I knew it wouldn’t be their cup of tea to begin with, letting them know I was in fact now certified as “The Coolest Grandpa in the World”. Holding the t shirt up so they could both read it, one of them shouted. “You know it says Coolest Grandma,not Coolest Grandpa”. My face dropped. They started howling. “No it doesn’t” I said in disbelief. I was in fact wrong. At this point the slightly pink colour of the t shirt made a whole lot more sense. Was the irony of the slogan stretched too far? I wondered. It had gone from faintly unbelievable, to unrealistic. A rather large difference if you ask me. Was I going to get approached by those rabid street interviewers asking me for my pronouns? I better start practising my “they/them” response asap in that case. The t shirt was still wholesome and now tapped into a feminist vibe which I was most evidently here for. I loved my grandma too; she was quite the character and am sure she would have appreciated me wearing this t.

I now sit here typing this out in the exact pro-Grandma t shirt that I have been describing. I have accidently slept in it and have worn it on my train commute back home. I feel like I have fully embraced the t shirt and it has embraced me back. It’s a work in progress but I think we’ll get there with persistence and gratitude. Luckily, I didn’t bump into any interviews on the journey home, although I did see a few people staring at my torso area. I was ready to put down my copy of Jack Keroauc’s On the Road, blurting out the pronouns I had practiced earlier. Apologies, I am just being silly at this point but the point still stands, this is most definitely my favourite t shirt at the moment.