Line Culture is Out of Control: It’s Time Sneakerheads Apologized

There’s been a lot of talk about lines lately. The phenomenon has been making news for over a year now, but the emergence of Rye, a new bakery in New York City selling $60 loaves of sourdough, was the artisanal straw that broke the camel’s back, starting the discourse and outrage cycle all over again. Despite the absurd price tag, bread-seekers have been standing outside the shop in neat, single-file lines for hours every day that Rye is open for their chance to trade their dough for dough.

Beyond the bread lines, block-long queues have been forming in cities across the globe for ice cream, matcha, pizza, fast fashion, and anything else that might be aesthetic enough to make the next seasonal Instagram dump. And instead of line-ups for special product drops, the shops themselves are the attraction, right down to the Stüssy store in Manhattan, which snakes a line 20+ deep for most of its operating hours.

Time To Say Sorry

The Rye rabble-rousers are right: line culture is out of control, and for that, you have sneakerheads to blame. For sneakerheads, the line-up is a culture unto itself, crafted over decades of Jordan retros, SB drops, boutique collabs, and countless sneakers with enough cache or, more importantly, resale value, to justify wasting a day in a camp chair scrolling Instagram and playing Candy Crush for hours on end.

Now, line-sitting culture has escaped containment, with social media driving an arms race of exclusive stuff in every product category imaginable, turning long lines into a standard part of the retail shopping experience. It sucks. No one should have to stand in line for half an hour for ice cream. That’s terrible. We’re sorry.

But while sneaker culture is significantly responsible for the prevalence of retail line-ups lately — blame those midnight movie nerds too, alright — sneakerheads also have a few tricks and tips for ruining line-ups and ending the charade altogether. Fed up with your neighborhood bakery line? All it takes is a little sneaker drop chaos.

How To Cancel a Line-Up

First, the best way to start messing with your local line-up is to be an active and vocal reseller. Take a note from the Supreme lines and stand across the street or two doors down from the line and start offering to buy those specialty croissants at a slight markup. Don’t really want the four peach blueberry pumpernickel pinwheels? All good, head to the back of the line and bump the price up again for the people waiting.

Next, start offering people in line money to cut. They’re already waiting; they may as well wait behind one more person and pretend you’re just their brother’s cousin’s friend running a little late. The rest of the line will notice and be furious with you, but that’s the point. The more ridiculous everyone feels for waiting in line and the more chaotic the line gets, the closer you are to getting rid of it altogether. For even faster results, skip the niceties altogether and just cut.

Finally, you might need to cause a scene. As soon as the door opens for one or two more people to leave the line for the pleasure of spending cash, it’s time for a little manufactured chaos. Like a flash mob for a purpose, if you and the other back-of-the-liners realize you aren’t going to get one of the must-have things or can’t handle the wait, just organize some dramatized frustration. Before you know it, the confusion will turn the formerly neat and orderly line into an unmanageable blob.

Just Walk Away

If all goes well, the business will shut down the lines altogether, sending pastry lovers and matcha latte enthusiasts into EQL raffles for their favorite IG-friendly treats and bringing serenity back to your block.

The sneaker industry and the rest of the consumer retail and even restaurant business are now running the same scarcity-obsessed playbook, hoping that lines and instant sell-outs will inspire more social media scrollers to take time from their days to stand in the next line. It’s a stupid cycle that leaves everyone unsatisfied, employees angry, and the algorithm fed. Next time you think about standing in line for sneakers, Supreme, or sandwiches, take a deep breath and reassess what you’re in it for.

Zach Harris

Zach Harris is a writer based in Philadelphia. His work has appeared in Rolling Stone, Vice, Complex, High Times, and more. He is obsessed with skateboarding and bowling. He is still looking for his first 300. For tips, reviews, and anything in size 10.5 - zach.h@soleretriever.com