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The Adidas x Gucci collaboration couldn’t be more obnoxious
The brands have teamed up to flog a pair of £195 socks – talk about not reading the room
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What on earth was going through the minds of those who worked on the collaboration for Adidas and Gucci when they came up with the pricing for their new campaign? This is how I like to imagine them: a bunch of bronzed, beautiful ad execs, all sitting around a lovely oak table, oat lattes in hand, a little like in Succession. In the corner of the room is a gym ball and a foosball table. Someone is drinking a kale smoothie. Someone is high fiving someone else. They have all just landed on the completely reasonable set price of £195 for a single pair of socks.
“That’s it!” they say to each other, in the fantasy marketing landscape of my mind (probably with a fist bump). “Keep it below £200 so it teases people to buy it – with the lure of that bargainous extra fiver off! They won’t be able to resist!”
And yes, they’re very nice socks, they’re long and white and feature the red Gucci motif with an Adidas twist, but they’re made of cotton. Not silk. Not gold, not diamonds, not moon dust – and no, I’m not ranting quite as much (though of course I could) about the umbrella for £870 (I don’t fancy its high-cost chances on a windy, stormy day in the UK) or the simple cotton t-shirt for £480, the £700 phone case or even the £400 faux-sport sweatbands (game of big bucks tennis, anyone?), though they’re all eye-watering in different ways, particularly now.
Just to deeply imbibe the striking contrast of it all, let us remind ourselves of where we are, right now, in this moment, in Britain, rubbing shoulders in the street with the kind of people who might, unthinkably, actually buy something from the Adidas x Gucci collection: we are living through a cost of living crisis.
Two million people can’t afford to eat daily, and people are turning down vegetables at food banks because of the energy cost involved in cooking them. Pensioners are riding buses in a bid to stay warm because they can’t afford to heat their homes, and parents are skipping meals so their children can eat. We are feeling the pinch of a decade of austerity, cuts to public services and slashes to state support for the most vulnerable, all set against a backdrop of rising inflation and the threat of global recession – but it’s okay, because there’s a pair of socks we can buy for £195! A bargain at twice the price!
And yes, you have read that right, you read it far better than the shimmering Adidas and Gucci execs read the room: a pair of SOCKS for almost TWO HUNDRED POUNDS. I know. They are the Cinderella slipper of the sock world. If your mind works anything like mine does, just the knowledge of this eye-wateringly expensive pair of socks has forced you to ask yourself one key question: what do socks mean to me? And would it inspire me to spend that much?
In my house – which comprises myself plus two under-10s – socks are always odd. In fact, my kids made it their mission to ensure they never wore a matching pair when they were small. Socks are always borrowed, too – I will admit that I regularly go to my primary school-aged daughter’s drawer to nick hers because I can never find my own. Finally – and vitally – socks are FUN. I’m talking sparkly socks, stripy socks, socks with cat ears at the top, SpongeBob SquarePants socks, trampoline socks (you know, those ones with rubbery soles that you have to wear every time you go trampolining, and it would of course be much more sensible to take the same pair, except I always forget, and have to buy a new pair for £1 a pop, so now all my family’s socks are trampoline socks).
Socks have been part of the most romantic moments of my life (I was once given a sparkly pair, filled with my favourite sweets, on Valentine’s Day) and they’re a source of comfort, too. They’re cosy in winter, because nothing beats the sensation of pulling on a pair of thick woollen socks over cold feet. I like them to be oversized; preferably borrowed from my dad, then switch to a neat little pair of trainer socks to keep things fresh in summer. I am also a huge fan of a fishnet sock (try it, you might find that you like it). As I write this strange ode, I am coming to realise that I love socks, I really love socks, even with sandals (yep) – but would I ever spend £195 on a pair? Sod off.
Socks are dangerous! Why would you drop a cool 200 quid on a single pair of socks when the chances are, one will get lost forever in the tumble dryer, or stolen by a fox (it happens) or is simply lost in a Romeo and Juliet-style tale of woe: separated from its partner, never to be seen again? In my house we have the “odd sock box”, stuffed to the brim with singles. It’s a bit like Love Island.
So no, I simply cannot fathom why anyone would ever want to risk owning – and definitely losing – one of a pair of £195 socks, when to misplace one (in the garden, at a party, beneath the sofa, at the beach or park, some strange story involving the cat) is the actual equivalent of chucking away £97.50. Just throwing it in the bin. Might as well burn it.
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Those who are so willing (or desperate) to own something tagged by the brands may well have chosen the socks (presumably they’re the smallest item, ergo the cheapest) – but imagine the pressure! A hallowed, singular pair of socks, the only socks you will now ever wear, the only ones you can now ever afford to buy; ones to lovingly hand-wash (and who’s got time for that? The last time I hand-washed anything was in 2001) – to be soaked and gently air-dried and then placed carefully in the drawer, on satin.
The only people I imagine (in my head) owning socks like that are the Beckhams. I don’t know why. But I can very well imagine David rustling through his sock drawer to find his favourite Adidas-Guccis, and doing an impromptu sock puppet with them, with a funny voice, and Victoria laughing, and maybe that’s just me.
It’s not the first time that high-end brands have done something so richly deserving of mockery, let’s face it. We all remember the Balenciaga “luxe” high-vis jacket, like one you’d wear on a construction site, which was on sale online for nearly £3,000? No? How about the Balenciaga £850 “messenger backpack”, inspired by Uber Eats delivery staff?
Adidas has raised eyebrows more than once in recent months, too – with its “bare boob” ad campaign that got proudly promoted on social media, only to be savagely taken down when it was banned in the UK by the ASA. And now it seems to be trying to make waves once again – with socks – when all I want, all any of us really want, let’s face it, is that £195, in our pockets. Rather than on our feet.