If you know, you know. Supreme’s drops are almost top secret—its the black market of streetwear. You log in and have less than 30 seconds to scoop up all the merch that you want to resell to make rent.
I’ve tried this on two separate occasions. One, not so seriously while on break. The other, moments ago when the new collection dropped.
I usually don’t get nervous, especially not when it comes to shopping. Somehow logging on to Supreme on my phone and computer made me feel like I snorted two lines of coke and took a hit of meth.
Yes, it’s that intense.
I’ve been counting this day, since last night, when something reminded me I needed to get on Supreme’s site. I’m so glad I did. I saw a green suit circa Ray Liotta in Goodfellas and a monogram fur coat in the likeness of Frank Lucas.
I didn’t get either. One, I couldn’t afford them on a college student salary. Two, the site reloads as soon as merch drops and your entire game plan is thrown off. Three, my billing and shipping address aren’t the same. A blessing and a curse—Supreme tries to cut down on the use of bots and resellers with this feature. Obviously, it’s not working.
So who cares that I didn’t get a Supreme coat. Some 14 years old in Topeka, KS that copped it, is going to resell it for almost three times the list price. Let’s just call this 14-year-old Stewy—fitting for a little twerp that stole my dream coat.
This is all theory speaking. So Stewy is theoretically 5’1″ with a bird chest. A men’s XL won’t fit him (It won’t fit me either but I can use it for boudoir shots. Stewy cannot, he’s underage.) Stewy waits a week for this coat to get there and leaves it in the bag. He snaps a few photos and lists this deadstock condition coat for $800-$1000, twice…almost three times the original selling price.
This is great for Stewy—he can buy all the PS4 games his teenage heart desires, or if he’s smart, save for college. Stewy’s probably not smart.
In a 1970s Woodstock way, some would see this as “sticking it to the man.” Supreme’s not the man. The man in the capitalistic society that creates this urge for demand with fractions of our population having access to purchase these goods.
Supreme was created as a way to express rebelling against society, all of what real skate culture embodies. Posers, myself included, have been swept up by the “hype” surrounding this brand and rely on those few minutes between seeing new merch flash across the screen and hitting the “process payment” button.
All of which I did four times in less than ten minutes. If the coat randomly appears on my doorstep instead of Stewy’s all’s well. If not, oh well. Maybe Chad in LA can buy it from Stewy’s depop and wear it to LA Fashion Week while wearing misconstrued cornrows that look like cornhusks and posing with the Kanye.