In the mid-2010s, the sneaker world was dominated by sleek, minimalist silhouettes and performance-driven designs. Brands like Nike and Adidas were locked in a race to produce the lightest, most aerodynamic footwear for athletes and fashion-forward consumers alike. Then, in 2017, Balenciaga released the Triple S, a sneaker that looked like it had been excavated from a 1990s gym locker and then inflated to monstrous proportions. Chunky, heavy, and deliberately clunky, the shoe was polarizing. Critics called it ugly. Fans called it genius. But what the Triple S truly did was shatter the prevailing aesthetic norms of sneaker design and usher in an era where luxury and streetwear collided in ways that had never been imagined.

The Triple S was not merely a shoe; it was a statement. Its design incorporated three distinct outsoles sourced from vintage running shoes—a homage to the aesthetics of old-school athletic footwear—stacked one atop another. The result was a silhouette that measured over five inches in height at the heel, defying every rule of proportion that modern sneakerheads had come to accept. The upper featured mesh, leather, and suede panels in clashing colors, often with exaggerated tongue padding and oversized laces. It looked like a Frankenstein monster of discarded sports gear, and that was exactly the point. Balenciaga’s creative director at the time, Demna Gvasalia, had a background in the anti-fashion ethos of Vetements, and he understood that the most potent form of luxury in the internet age was not refinement but disruption.

The cultural impact of the Triple S was immediate and far-reaching. Within months, every major fashion house and sneaker brand scrambled to produce their own version of the “dad shoe.” Nike resurrected the Air Monarch, a model that had been a suburban dad staple for years, and rebranded it as a high-fashion statement. Adidas collaborated with Raf Simons on the Ozweego. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton—all launched chunky silhouettes. The trend was so pervasive that it earned its own nickname: the “ugly sneaker” movement. Yet calling these shoes ugly misses the point. They were intentionally provocative, designed to challenge the notion that beauty in sneakers had to be synonymous with sleekness and subtlety. Balenciaga had redefined what a luxury sneaker could look like, and in doing so, they democratized the very concept of high fashion footwear.

More importantly, the Triple S rewrote the rules of sneaker pricing and exclusivity. Before its release, luxury sneakers existed but often in the form of minimal leather trainers priced around five hundred dollars. Balenciaga set the Triple S at nearly nine hundred dollars, a price that seemed absurd for a shoe that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift store bin. Yet the demand was insatiable. The shoe sold out instantly, spawning a secondary market where resale prices soared to two thousand dollars or more. This price point effectively created a new category: the ultra-luxury sneaker, one that was not only about comfort or sports performance but about signaling an understanding of avant-garde fashion. Owning a pair of Triple S shoes became a badge of cultural literacy, a way for consumers to demonstrate that they were in on the joke.

The Triple S also accelerated the blurring of lines between streetwear and haute couture. Prior to Balenciaga’s intervention, high-fashion houses had been cautious about embracing sneaker culture, viewing it as a subculture beneath their prestige. But the commercial success of the Triple S proved that sneakers could be the most profitable category in luxury fashion. It opened the door for subsequent Balenciaga releases like the Track, the Runner, and the controversial Croc-inspired clogs, all of which continued to push boundaries. Other luxury brands followed suit, embedding sneakers into their core collections rather than treating them as novelty items. The result was a fundamental shift in how the fashion industry approached footwear: the sneaker was no longer a utilitarian object or a lowly casual shoe; it was a canvas for artistic expression and a primary driver of brand identity.

Beyond the shoe itself, Balenciaga’s strategy capitalized on the power of social media and celebrity endorsement. The Triple S was photographed on the feet of everyone from Justin Bieber to Kim Kardashian to Hailey Bieber, often styled with oversized streetwear and tailoring. Instagram, in particular, became the engine that propelled the ugly sneaker trend, as influencers and fashion editors competed to post the most extreme outfits featuring the chunky shoes. Balenciaga understood that in the digital age, the most valuable currency was not just the product but the image it generated. The Triple S was designed to be photographed, to be meme-worthy, and to spark conversation. It succeeded spectacularly.

In retrospect, the Triple S was more than a trend; it was a paradigm shift. It taught the sneaker industry that luxury could be found in the ordinary, that beauty could be ugly, and that the most powerful way to define culture was to defy expectations. Balenciaga did not just release a shoe—they released a manifesto. And the echoes of that manifesto are still felt today, in every pair of chunky, sculptural, or deliberately awkward sneakers that grace the feet of sneaker enthusiasts around the world. The dad shoe may have faded from its peak, but its legacy endures: luxury sneaker culture was never the same.