Vans | New energy. Same authenticity

What started in 1966 as a direct-to-consumer rubber-sole operation in Anaheim, California, became one of the most universally recognisable shoe silhouettes on the planet. The secret? Vans never tried to be anything other than exactly what they were: a sturdy, affordable, unpretentious canvas shoe built for grip and ground-feel. Skaters found that out first. The rest of the world followed.

Today, you will recognize them on the runways of Comme des Garçons or the feet of teenagers in Groningen. Vans belong to a rare category of products that function as an extension of personal identity. Wearing them isn’t just a practical choice; it signals something about who you are, your taste, and the subcultures you align with.

The brand's relationship with high fashion is long and genuinely strange. Marc Jacobs wore them to his own runway shows in the late nineties. Raf Simons cited them as formative. Supreme's first major collaboration was with Vans in the late 90s, long before collaborative drops became the dominant commercial model of the sneaker industry. More recently, names like Takashi Murakami, A$AP Mob, and countless independent artists have contributed to a collab library that spans the full breadth of contemporary visual culture.

Yet none of these partnerships has changed what Vans fundamentally is. That is the key. The waffle outsole remains essentially unchanged since 1966. The canvas uppers still use the same vulcanised construction. The silhouettes have not been "improved" in any meaningful ergonomic sense. What has changed, in thousands of colourways, patterns, and materials, is the surface. Vans understood before almost anyone else that the shoe itself could be a platform: a white canvas in the most literal sense.