Published May 31, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD
In my 20s—post-college, newly employed, still figuring myself out—I fell deep into the sub culture of sneaker collecting.
What started as a passion became a full-on obsession. At it’s height, I owned over 500 pairs. Not a typo. Five. Hundred.
I was stashing kicks in closets, under the bed, behind furniture, in storage bins, even in my parents’ basement. Any crevice I could find, I filled. I had to rent a storage unit just to store the boxes. The empty boxes! At the time, it felt like I was building something—a collection, a brand, a sense of identity. I even launched a semi-successful instagram account to showcase my collection under the alias @lefron_james. But looking back, I was just trying to fill something else.
Then the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was stuck at home, reevaluating things. That’s when I was reintroduced to the sports card hobby by a close buddy I grew up with—something I loved as a kid but hadn’t touched in years. It felt new again, fresh, exciting and far more compact than 500 pairs of sneakers.
So I sold off most of the shoes. Downsized. Streamlined. Reinvested in cards.
I told myself it was strategic—a smarter way to collect.
But really? I just needed cash to chase the dopamine hit I discovered from ripping wax.
I convinced myself this version of the hobby was healthier. After all, it was way more efficient. It took up WAY less space. It was easier to manage. But eventually, I found myself in the same cycle—buying, chasing, rationalizing, spending.
Different medium. Same behavior.
It taught me something that took years to understand:
The problem isn’t always what you collect.
Sometimes it’s how you collect.
And more importantly—why.
Some people can manage this stuff in moderation. A few pairs. A box here or there. A small chase, followed by rest. And if you’re one of those people, that’s amazing. Truly. Frankly, I’m envious of your ability to display self control.
But others—myself included—struggle with moderation when the high feels so rewarding.
When collecting turns into coping. When excitement starts to look like escapism.
That’s why awareness matters. Why boundaries matter. Why for some people, full abstinence might be the only real path forward.
We don’t talk about that enough in collecting culture. We glorify the “hustle,” the “heat,” the “grails.” But we don’t ask enough:
“At what cost?”
“Am I collecting with intention—or compulsion?”
Sneakers. Cards. Watches. NFTs. Comics. Doesn’t matter what it is. If it’s not being done with balance, it eventually tips the scale against you.
So today, I don’t measure the health of my hobby by what I own or how “efficient” it is.
I measure it by how honest I’m being with myself.
How in control I feel.
How at peace I am.
And if you’ve been where I’ve been, just know—you’re not alone.
This movement exists so we can talk about the stuff that doesn’t make it to the highlight reel.
Collect with intention. Not compulsion.
#CollectorsMD
The most dangerous addiction is the one we convince ourselves is harmless.
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