It doesn’t matter how many five-star reviews a product has or what its sell-out rate is: I'll only ever spend my Mint-allotted “me budget” on something that's come recommended from people I actually know. That can be a friend or a colleague—never a stranger on the Internet. Yet even I haven't been able to completely shut out everyone's obsession with Allbirds' signature wool sneakers, which are allegedly “the world’s most comfortable shoes.”
The brand is reported to be one of the fastest-growing footwear companies globally. It has collaborated with the likes of Nordstrom, Outdoor Voices, and even Shake Shack. It sold a million shoes in two years. Not bad for an idea that debuted on Kickstarter.
But that's not why I finally caved and bought a pair of wool sneakers. It's because my boyfriend won't shut up about them.
You see, he's the proud owner of three pairs of Allbirds. He works in tech, and I work at a magazine—by nature, we take very different approaches to dressing. And in the context of our relationship, I like to think of myself as the authority on all things sartorial. But over the past several months, he’s used every work-related conversation to tell me about his growing Allbirds collection and how I needed to buy my own and subsequently write about them. A sample of his commentary: "They’re ungodly comfortable, but they look cool! Everyone in my office has them! Halie, these are about to be the next big thing! How am I ahead of you on this?" (I’ll admit that one got under my skin.)
I held out on his hearty endorsement for two reasons: I really didn’t believe they were as comfortable as he said—and he said so on a daily basis—and I hated the idea of rolling up to Sunday brunch (or anywhere) with my S.O. in matching sneakers. I ran out of excuses to ignore his glowing reviews when, true to his word, I started to notice Allbirds everywhere, from Instagram to brunch with friends.
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On a recent trip to Boston, I met up with a former teacher to lunch, and she arrived in slate gray Allbirds with her granddaughter, wearing the brand’s Smallbirds, in tow. When my parents visited me in New York from Tampa two months ago, shopping at the brand's store was prioritized over visiting my office and touring my neighborhood. I started noticing Allbirds more and more during my commute too, the wool sneakers rivaling Stan Smiths in ubiquity on the subway. Clearly, these plain, soft sneakers have universal appeal—and I was the very last one to get on board.
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So I went back to the Allbirds store and bought a pair—white wool runners, specifically. Within five minutes, I was DM-ing my boyfriend a picture of myself wearing the shoes. "You win," I wrote, begrudgingly. Though, really, “win” for him is a win for me.
Wearing my Allbirds is what I imagine walking on a cloud feels like: The wool upper is pillow soft with a sole that’s supportive enough for all-day wear, and the sustainably sourced fabric is cool to the touch as well. You can forget to wear socks and make it through the day without sweaty swamp-feet. My white pair is low-maintenance, despite all the miles I log wearing them—I pop out the soles and machine-wash them at home every two weeks, and they still look good as new.
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Since buying my first pair of Allbirds—yep, I own two now—I’ve worn them for every morning commute and throughout most workdays after. My boyfriend gloats just a little when we end up wearing our Allbirds at the same time, but I’m fine with paying just shy of $100 to hear “I told you so” on the reg. When you’re basically wearing slippers 24/7, you’re too comfy to care.
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