Let’s start with…

The Bad: Sneaker conventions are weird. I don’t understand the appeal of hanging out at a club during the night with a bunch of other dudes to converse and pick out shoes. I swear, I almost snuffed some frost-fondling, soft serve sucker for rolling up on me and asking me what size shoes I wear. Read the rest of this entry »

Words by Jesse H.

Given the previous indications from the Atlanta stop, I should have known that this wasn’t going to be the best experience. The NYC Sneaker Pimps ’09 show was a zoo, missing press lists and general disorganization left the Terminal 5 staff overwhelmed and the VIP/Press section of the crowd grumbling outside. Ever optimistic, TSS covered the event anyways.

Sneaker Pimps ’09 organizers pulled off a doozy of an event last week. Did I get in and actually see the event? No, Devin Chanda and I waited outside the venue for two hours on empty promises and assurances that they’d “have the press list ready any second now,” before we finally got too frustrated and left. But somewhere between seeing Miss Info and magazines like Complex get shafted as well, and seeing the Clipse’s publicist rolling his eyes, exhaling deeply and typing emails at a feverish pace, I realized something. Not getting into the show was actually the point of this wonderfully creative affair.

Those clever Sneaker Pimps folk had given us the most beautiful lesson of all. Instead of worrying about silly things like “reality” and “ticket distribution,” they presented the press with the most grand opportunity: to imagine the show. What a golden chance! A chance to picture the greatest show of all-time! What better way is there to spend two hours? So, I’m proud to present to you, what I wish my Sneaker Pimps ’09 experience was like — Sneaker Pimps ’09: The Imagination Experience.

Oh and I apologize in advance, my imagination isn’t very good at Photoshop…or drawing. But hey, if those bastards at Sneaker Pimps can mail in the organizational effort for a high-profile show, I can mail in the graphic work for their coverage).

Before we went to the perfect show, I imagine Devin and I would probably smoke a cigarette outside of the venue. I assume a cop would see us, but instead of totally being a dick and making us move for no good reason (or demanding to see our “press credentials,” which may or may not have happened at the real Sneaker Pimps), he would compliment us and move on.

Ah, I remember imagining how awesome the entrance would be, absolutely no line and a charming, sweet ticket lady who recognized us right away, rushing us Read the rest of this entry »