Trojan Psyche: The Golden Goose shoe: An exercise in honesty

American popular culture often frames the college campus as an equalizer — an artificial brick oasis free from the country’s class stratification, pumping out high achievers destined to live off their meritocratic gains.

This intellectually dishonest picture has manufactured interesting ways of tip-toeing around the very real differences that exist on college campuses.

Playing pretend, rich students delusionally complain of imaginary poverty. Many, well aware of their true economic affluence, lament their financial destitution before splurging online in COMM lectures, withdrawing spending money from six-figure bank accounts in the Village Bank of America or dropping big bucks at Erewhon. 

These students’ forgetful desertions of their roleplay serve as a much-needed reality check for me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m living through some Bostromian simulation that toys with poor Black women, specifically. 

Amid the liars who so dutifully — and poorly — impersonate a nonexistent version of themselves, a group of individuals wear a very recognizable badge brazenly: Golden Gooses.

I vividly recall the first time I spotted one. Here I was on an elite campus, and my floormates couldn’t even afford new shoes. I even considered launching a shoe drive for the residents of Birnkrant’s sixth floor. I soon learned that not only were my floormates wearing these shoes voluntarily, but they were spending upward of $500 on some of these pairs. I was out of touch with an entire demographic at this school, and not being in people’s business just didn’t sit well with me.

I spoke to several USC students about their opinion of the shoe brand. Qualifiers often accompanied admissions of brand loyalty. Those I spoke to assured me they were not like other factions of Golden Goose owners — the factions who devotedly bought the brand’s most ridiculous designs, who only purchased them after being on campus for a week, who were gifted Golden Goose’s by their mother and had no interest in Italian craftsmanship, and on and on. 

The association of Golden Goose shoes with the Greek life population was probably the most prominent one. 

However, this stereotype has become larger than the brand itself. Research indicates Venetian designers Francesca Rinaldo and Alessandro Gallo did not have members of USC’s Kappa Kappa Gamma in mind when designing their shoes. In order to understand the appeal of Golden Goose, I had to go to its intended fan base.

Eli Kaufman, a junior majoring in economics and a member of USC’s streetwear club, already had thoughts about the growing popularity of the shoe. 

“I commented at lunch today that whenever I saw someone wearing Golden Geese, I wanted to beat them up,” Kaufman said. “I just wanted to punch them. I know this is being recorded, but it’s a joke. For legal purposes.”

Kaufman discovered the brand in high school and enjoyed connecting with other peers interested in fashion as much as he was. After coming to USC, the fashion enthusiast was pushed away from the brand due to its increasing popularity with “normies” — my words, not his.

“I saw so many people with [the shoe] … It didn’t feel special anymore to me,” Kaufman said. “So I kept it for a while, but I sort of wore it less. And then I started hating on it. I had some friends that hated on it, and I was like ‘You’re right… it is just a sorority girl shoe. This is over now.’”

That was until he began skating. How many students on this campus identify Golden Goose as a skate shoe? Well, the design has every marking of one. If one can ignore some of its more questionable models, the brand’s flat silhouette, narrower fit, durable sole and unkempt aesthetic are perfectly made for running pedestrians over on Trousdale.

Much of the brand’s existing controversy surrounds the commercialization of poverty, especially after the company sold a design that featured tape holding it together. However, I couldn’t help but look at my beat-up, year-old Reeboks and then back to the silver Golden Gooses that adorned Eli’s feet. In his words, Golden Gooses are meant to look “good distressed.” 

Stylistically, I may not agree with that, but they were definitely holding up better than my sneakers. No matter how distressed a Golden Goose shoe is, it’s impossible to tell how long the owner has worn it, by virtue of the design. For years, I’ve wondered how a fashion company swindled so many wealthy people into paying for distressed shoes, and here was the money-making difference.

“I went to Tokyo. And while I was there, I visited one of the Golden Goose stores that had just opened,” Kaufman said. “They have this cool little thing called Golden Goose Lab where you can go in and customize your shoes and add a bunch of designs and drawings.”

It’s this craftsmanship that affords Golden Goose an audience beyond its sensational hyper-distressed designs, such as Shawn Krantz, who prefers the cleaner designs of Golden Goose.

“First of all, I’m wearing them for a while so I usually go [for] designer shoes,” said Krantz, a junior majoring in business administration. “When I’m buying shoes, I’m gonna wear them for a long time; I’m not going to go buy another pair of the same thing.”

This column installment, for me, was an exercise in being wrong. At their core, Golden Goose wearers aren’t foolish kids with a poverty fetish. They appreciate fashion, craftsmanship, community and, of course, have the funds to pay for it. Like any in-group, there will be infiltrators. The stereotypical Golden Goose owner –– a wealthy, New York-born sorority girl –– has become the poster child for a brand that was once championed by, and still caters to, skaters with an appreciation for luxury. 

As for the shoe’s hefty price tag, I’ve realized the unabashed display of wealth is more comforting than its dismissal. Golden Goose owners are definitely not the common man. But on this campus, maybe we need to appreciate it when rich people do rich people things instead of donning the veil of being “middle class.”
Amina Niasse is a junior writing about USC stereotypes, archetypes and trends. She is also an A&E Editor of the Daily Trojan. Her column, “Trojan Psyche,” runs every other Wednesday.