A few hours post-purchase, I went on a date-not always the safest place to try out new shoes, but these fit the bill. They also looked nearly identical to the ones I’d been lusting after. I didn’t get the same rush or sense of superiority that I do when securing a pair of sneakers few other people own, but I still knew the sneakers were almost identical. I walked into a J.Crew in my neighborhood and bought a pair of general-release Club Cs for their $70 asking price. Something, I thought, would have to give. For a while, I've recognized that a revolving-door closet is not sustainable-not to mention an exhausting, stressful way to live. Thankfully, I never let my sneaker addiction get me into real trouble, and I stayed true to my need to sell off under-utilized pairs when times got tight. “Oh, I can always flip them later” was a go-to excuse, as was, “if I don’t buy them now, they’re going to be impossible to cop on the aftermarket.” Probably my favorite self-talk line over the years was, “Once I buy them, I’ll just save money elsewhere,” which usually meant a week or so of being antisocial and subsisting off of food from my local deli. In navigating this asteroid field of fire footwear, I lost myself on more than one occasion. With more options than ever to choose from and a constant flood of “limited-edition” releases, the temptation to buy new kicks lurks at the bottom of every scroll. There’s never been an easier time have-or to rationalize-a sneaker addiction than in 2019. Don’t miss GQ’s definitive guide to everything kicks-from the types of sneakers always worth copping to the best ways to score the next hot drop.

Rebook club c