The chunky sneaker was supposed to be a pandemic artifact, a comfort-first indulgence that would fade once heels returned and offices reopened. Instead, it has calcified into something more permanent: the default shoe of the celebrity class, visible on every paparazzi shot from LAX to the Chateau Marmont, worn with everything from tailored trousers to vintage Levi's to, occasionally, nothing but a oversized blazer.
This week's parade of celebrity street style confirmed what fashion observers have suspected for some time now: the chunky trainer is no longer a trend. It is infrastructure.
The silhouettes that stuck
The current rotation has narrowed considerably from the maximalist chaos of 2019, when Balenciaga Triple S's competed with Fila Disruptors for sidewalk real estate. Today's celebrity chunky sneaker is more curated, more deliberately ugly-beautiful. The New Balance 550 remains ubiquitous, its retro basketball profile offering just enough heft without tipping into parody. The Asics Gel-Kayano 14, with its visible gel cushioning and early-2000s runner aesthetic, has emerged as the choice for those who want to signal taste without appearing to try. And the Salomon XT-6, originally designed for ultramarathon trail runners, has become the sneaker of choice for creative directors and fashion editors who want to look like they might, theoretically, exercise.
What unites these choices is a studied rejection of sleekness. The thin-soled minimalist sneaker that dominated the early 2010s—your Common Projects, your Stan Smiths worn until translucent—now reads as dated as skinny jeans. Volume is the point.
Why fashion can't quit the bulk
The persistence of the chunky sneaker reflects something deeper than cyclical trend mechanics. It represents a permanent casualization of public life that even the most aggressive return-to-office mandates haven't reversed. The sneaker has become acceptable everywhere except the most formal occasions, and even there, the boundaries are eroding. Wedding guests wear them. Award show attendees pair them with gowns. The sneaker is no longer a statement of rebellion against dress codes; it is the dress code.
There's also the practical matter of comfort. Once you've worn a shoe with an inch of foam cushioning, the prospect of returning to a leather-soled loafer feels like punishment. The chunky sneaker has trained an entire generation of consumers to expect their footwear to feel like walking on a mattress.
Our take
The fashion industry spent years insisting the chunky sneaker would give way to something sleeker, something more refined, something that didn't make everyone's feet look like they belonged to a cartoon character. It was wrong. The chunky sneaker has achieved what few trends manage: it has become invisible through ubiquity, so omnipresent that it no longer registers as a choice. That's not the mark of a trend. That's the mark of a permanent shift in how we dress. The slim sneaker isn't coming back. Accept it.
