I will probably always be “the trainer girl”. Back in the day (circa 2007), I had around 500 pairs of sneakers – mostly Nike Air Max 90s, Air Max 95s and also Reebok Classics – that I wore to the supermarket, on stage and the red carpet. I say “had”, but I still have them. All of them. There are around 200 pairs here at home (which since 2021 has been Brooklyn, New York), and roughly 300 in storage. I know that sounds like rather a lot of sneakers, especially when I write it here, in Vogue of all places, but hear me out. I’m a trainer enthusiast, so I could never throw any of them away, and now every pair I’ve saved (plus all of the Karl Lagerfeld-era Chanel that the late designer gave to me himself) will one day belong to my daughters.
They – my 11 and 13 year olds, who regularly scour ancient Google images of me for inspiration on which items to “borrow” from my wardrobe – seem excited about that prospect. “Where’s that?” they ask when they spy a piece they like, and I’m able to reply, “It’s waiting for you.” Before adding: “When you get your degree.”
The outfit combination that Google most likes to serve to my inquisitive daughters is peak trainer girl. Fashion’s 20-year rule seems to be coming true, because the original Lily look – party dress plus trainers, which I wore on repeat in my late teens and early 20s – is shifting back into focus this season. As I approach 40, now in the trenches of my Brooklyn Mom era, I find myself revisiting it again too.
There are aesthetic updates, naturally. The hemlines are longer, for a start. And, rather than vintage prom dresses, I collect floor-length chemise silk gowns from Atelier Bomba in Rome (they’re translucent, so you can see your underwear). And, yes, I’m also hooked on Miu Miu’s viral New Balance runners. I recently bought two pairs – the black leather, and the white and blue suede. Along with Chanel’s metallic trainers and the silver toe-capped ballet sneakers on Prada’s spring/summer 2025 runway (quite Studio 54-era Bowie, IMO), they’re slimline and nimble, which feels very now. They look delicate next to the JD Sports treasures that I recently pulled out of my storage unit (every time I visit, I usually leave with around 20 pairs), but they’re very much still about freedom, which is what sneakers have always symbolised to me.
They’re the shoes that people who don’t like to go to parties wear to parties, typically with a great dress. The outfit subtext being: “I’ve made an effort, but I’m only staying an hour.” (I feel like everyone kind of secretly hates going to parties, but we do it still. Who knows why. Duty, nostalgia, amnesia, hope? And especially so at this time of year.)
Every look I wore during the Noughties used to start with the trainers. I’d tie in the colour of the Nike tick or the stripes on my Reebok Classics to my outfit somehow, and have my nails done to match. A less visible style secret? When fame found me later in the decade, 21-year-old me was on a mission to dress her way out of deep self-consciousness. I’m five foot two. I didn’t (and some days am still learning to) like the lower half of my body. I was never destined to be someone who could walk around in heels all day, but pairing Nike Air Jordan 1s with a vintage fit-and-flare dress gave me a cinch at the waist, and the illusion of extra height – because I really wanted to look like the British models I grew up idolising, Iris Palmer and Jade Parfitt. They had these unbelievably long legs and styled their trainers with leopard-print leggings. It was just so fucking cool in the way that Phoebe Philo still makes the high-low jumble of west London styling utterly irresistible.
Today, Brooklyn Mom me is feeling pretty again for the first time in a long while. I’ve always been comfortable in my shoes, but these days I’m also comfortable in my skin. I’ll wear The Row’s Nassau silk-crêpe gown or an interesting vintage Margiela skirt – the enormous one with iridescent discs on it – with my Nikes and take the subway (forever the best way to get anywhere in New York). It’s these moments that I dress up for – I live for the chance that someone across the carriage might say, “Love it, girl”, and in my head I’ll think: “Still got it.”
When I arrive, I’ll pretend to be busy by making sure that I have enough cigarettes in my bag. I don’t drink, but do like to think about possible excuses to leave early (unless there’s good canapés, in which case, I might stay for, ooh, another 20 minutes). My sneakers, on the other hand, are resolutely hedonistic. Naturally, they’ll be eye-catchingly festive – cue the silver-foil finish. But the best part is that they’ll ensure I can exit a social gathering at lightning speed (heels could never). Useful, if ever you need a reminder this party season we really can dress entirely for ourselves. And our daughters now too.
As told to Julia Hobbs
