Sneakerhead & Prada Porn

April 4, 2014 • Fashion, Love & Sex

The first shoe fetishist who ever hit me up was in high school — another student actually, one of my friends. He was super sweet. Since then I’ve noticed foot fetishists of different sorts. You’ve got the traditional sneakerheads, you’ve also got the fashion kids who hunt down their grail shoes and live their life around saving up for them, and you’ve got the devout who would sooner have their Doc Martens burned off their feet than throw them away because the memories, man, the memories. And then you have people who actually fuck their shoes. Which is a category I came across maybe a year ago, because Tumblr is an amazing place and no Dashboard is safe from surprise porn in between models in Prada (another kind of erotic, but for my wallet).

Object fetishism is something I’m fascinated by for a long while, though. I see very little difference between wrapping myself in my Vivienne Westwood silk dress and sighing at the touch of it on my skin and you know, actually getting a hard-on and boning your shoes. It’s a concentrated obsessive desire for something, one is simply more radical of an approach. I want to have sex in my dress, not with my dress, but if we’re talking about the ideal leather jacket, I plead the Fifth, okay?

What got me thinking about all this was actually revisiting the SHOWstudio Object Fetish film series the other night — particularly the Prada film clip of shoes and spats.

fetish01

 

Picture the scene: by all accounts, it’s purely business. A minimal backdrop, the object in question, the dutiful historian with crib notes and an earnest apprehension. You’ve got Fury talking about Prada taking the “sex out of sexy and making the dowdy desirable,” and you’ve got the model’s feet, posed like the toes of an impatient Cher Horowitz. Prada twisted the idea of seamed stockings to the front of the body and made it an argyle knit instead, a perversity of design in the best of ways. A New Yorker profile on Prada described her work as “slightly frumpy, somewhat feminist” a few years ago and this moment of design — it’s just that. You have to work for the sexy in the moment, you have to earn the object and the revised worth. Prada’s for women who like to be worshiped but just the way they’d like, and you have to earn the privilege. If you want to touch me you have to ask nice. Touch me there, and how I like it. Ask me permission. Give me what I want.

I love Prada’s perversity in her designs for that particular collection and I love that Fury stumbled through his script in a dungeon-like atmosphere while the faceless model stood posed, ready, legs quivering. Isn’t just the description pornographic? It’s amazing, and there’s not a naked body to be found.

The absolute obsession with these socks and spats — it’s a lot like a sneaker porn. While some fashion fetishists chose the Prada route and sublimate their perversity through the almost holy worshiping a la Fury and Nick Knight, you also have people who literally just have sex with the object they love so much. Most sneaker porn is shot POV on a terrible handycam or some such. There’s no studio set up like SHOWstudio — this is un-fucked-with masturbation, just static noise and thrusts. My favorite part is when the person zooms in on the scuff-marks on their sneakers and they whimper and cum. It’s so weak and human and raw. In terrible teen movies and satires of teen movies you’ve got girls whimpering over shoes in windows and we’re supposed to think they’re dramatic and shallow. It’s not — our lust is real, we just like to cover it up.

Over lunch the other day I watched Fury discuss Prada in one window and a random sneaker porno side by side, and it felt like they could be fuck buddies: the rich and weird Prada top and the super machismo Nike bottom, fucking each other by fucking their objects. The subject is the object and the object is lust.

Tags: , ,

Read more:
#Minimal: Calvin Klein’s Sexy Reductionism
Models Have Always Spoken, But Who’s Listening

Close
close

All Aboard.

Get The Style Con shipped to your inbox.