The circuitous life of the tabi shoe
Maison Martin Margiela Spring/Summer 1989, Photography by Tatsuya Kitayama
Words by Liv Franks
If your feed is anything like mine, you will have become rather familiar with the tabi shoe. In the aesthetic’s latest regeneration, Margiela has moulded them into the it shoes for the great and the good of the fashion world. In recent years, stars like Dua Lipa and Pedro Pascal have donned the eye-catching design. Despite Margiela becoming a buzz word for your favourite influencers, there actually lies a long and storied history in the life of the tabi shoe. One that speaks to a combination of Japanese artistry and practicality.
Maison Martin Margiela Spring/Summer 1995, Photography by Marina Faust
Photography by Kusakabe Kimbei
The earliest documentation of the tabi aesthetic was socks in the 15th century Japan. It was theorised that the wearer would have improved grip, security, and comfort when wearing zori (straw thonged sandals) or geta (wooden clogs) which separate your big toe from the rest of your foot. Moreover, they were high value items that announced your elevated social status. In Japan’s stratified society, certain colours were reserved for particular classes of people. Purple and gold were exclusively for the nobility, white was for formal occasions, such as tea ceremonies, and blue was the only colour that the general public were permitted to wear.
Photography by Nobuyoshi Araki
From sock to shoe, the next era of the tabi saw its role change from ornamental to functional. With this change, came a shift in social capital, too. In the late 19th century, they began to be worn by construction workers and other manual labourers due to the durable rubber sole fashioned onto the shoe. It combined the security of the rubber sole with the feeling of being barefoot. This shoe was called Jika-tabi, and if you were to wander down to a construction site in the suburbs of Tokyo, you very well may still find builders wearing them, albeit with a few more modern safety precautions…
Maison Martin Margiela Spring/Summer 1989, Photography by Raf Coolen
Indeed, it was a trip to Japan that inspired Martin Margiela to create his now world famous shoe. Hitting the runway in their 1988 debut, there was something distinctively counter cultural about his show. In evolving the cotton labourer’s shoe to leather heeled boots, he had upended any previous expectations of the tabi aesthetic. Instead of the white socks reserved for religious ceremonies, the tabi had transformed into a dynamic, maybe even aggressive, construction. Margiela had smeared the leather boots with fresh red paint so that the models would leave their footprints on the runway, commemorating the toe separation in a wash of crimson.
Maison Martin Margiela Spring/Summer 1989, Photography by Bill Cunningham
Amidst this anti-fashion ethos, Margiela oversaw an expansion into the western market. This contrast of high/low fashion also captured the attention of Nike. Global audiences were introduced to the Nike Air Rift, first released in 1996. This avant-garde running shoe was a disruptor in the athletic industry, designed in collaboration with Kenyan distance runners (for the uninitiated, the Kenyans know a thing or two about good distance running) and was ultimately named after The Great Rift Valley in Kenya. In this shoe came the culmination of three continents of collaboration: The birth of the tabi in Japan, the American might of Nike, and the Kenyan knowledge of what it takes to make a quality running shoe.
Maison Martin Margiela Fall/Winter 1996-97
Moreover, the respective works of Margiela and Nike brought the tabi style into the global spotlight, and, in particular, Margiela catapulted the working class staple into the world of high fashion once again. Such is the way with trend cycles, battling between exclusivity and accessibility. Except that this isn’t merely bouncing between decades. The tabi’s own life cycle has spanned over 500 years, traversing class systems and continents, only to return back to the top of the fashion world.