Knowledge Reigned Supreme
One of Meissen’s porcelain painters working on their Supreme “Cupid” collaboration figurine (2019). Source: Supreme
There have been countless blog posts, op-eds, and even dissertations about the story of Supreme. How did they establish a branding framework and “drop” release method, NOS-injecting a planet-destroying industry for decades? How often was it declared “dead” with a “worst season ever," only to be “so back” weeks later with a hot new collaboration or the release of a “best season in years”? If you are one of those people (like myself) who developed a para-social relationship with the brand for years, keeping up with it as if it were a sports team or musician, and not a commercial entity (not that sports teams or musicians are no commercial entities) trying to sell clothes to me, you probably heard all of it, and admittedly often enough. Still, with the release of the Fall-Winter 2025 season, I felt it was time to gather some thoughts on 15 years spent vicariously in the world James Jebbia built, by adapting the Japanese streetwear hype playbook to skateboarding culture.
The brand itself has been around (just about) longer than I have. I first learned about Supreme while reading about it in German skateboard magazines, where it was referred to as a legendary New York City skate shop, rather than a maker of clothes themselves, let alone “sTreEtWeAr”. The next memorable appearance in my media diet at the time came with Eric Koston pulling out multiple Supreme hats as well as the iconic white plastic bags with the oh-so-proportionate red box logo out of his car in a The Berrics video series (was it called Junk in the Trunk?). Also, getting more interested in the “sneaker world”, the significance of their Nike SB Dunks became obvious quickly. Cut to Tyler, the Creator, seminal skate videos like “cherry”, global eyes on the Fairfax scene, the crossing of the Atlantic with the opening of the London store, and off to the races we were. The biannualy ritual of teaser; lookbook, and preview of every item from a whole season; scoping out targets, and keeping up with drop lists; wondering about upcoming collaborations, and following rumors; striking out most of the time, and finding myself confronted with a “sold out” screen; being fast enough once in a while and receiving the oh-so-coveted order confirmation - I imagine those are similar mechanisms that propelled Dark Souls and other From Software games to the highest echolons in gaming circles. I participated as much as I could, sitting at my laptop in rural Germany. Looking back, everything surrounding the purchase seems admittedly quite silly. But to be honest, the whole thing meant a little more to me than a quick weekly dopamine kick on Thursdays.
I discovered music by artists like Horace Andy, learned about illustrators contributing to the clothing designs, and got my hands on (relatively) rare to find cult favorite movies like John Woo’s The Killer. They even took quite firm political positions. It familiarized me with artists popular in fine art circles such as John Baldessari, George Condo, and Nan Goldin, and encouraged me to explore these varied genres of creative expression. Just like there are different moons of artistic endeavours circling the moon that is skateboarding. This “introducing cool shit to our audience” factor might be the biggest discrepancy that seeped in over the past 10-15 years. At least for me. Perhaps it’s also a result of my age and having been exposed to it for about half my life by now. Perhaps older, more culturally savvy people felt in 2010 what I feel now, but instead of showcasing niche or even counter-cultural art, Supreme seems to have turned to flexing their status. Of course, you could argue that the Ghostface Killah and Raekwon, or the Lou Reed tee, were victory laps onto themselves, but the weight shifted quite a bit from iykyk to “look what we can pull off”.
Barbara Kruger’s fools.doc (2013). Source: artnet
An embarrassing systemic racism scandal surrounding Tremaine Emory, a peculiar lawsuit involving Tyshawn Jones (which, frankly, casts all parties involved in a negative light), and several, widely discussed but ultimately mostly inconsequential changes in venture capital ownership later, I guess I have to accept that Supreme, by now, is just another brand, another corporate behemoth. If they were all along, they were adept at maintaining the illusion of focusing on art and creativity in favor of commerce. While accepting the contradictory premise of a countercultural mindset manifesting in a subculture centered on consumerism, one still has to question the substance and cultural currency of products that aim at that subculture. Getting sued by Barbara Kruger herself (only after Supreme tried to sue Leah McSweeney’s Married to the Mob for alleged copyright infringement) could have been an indicator. The thought of her not appreciating Supreme’s straight rip of her typography art style that usually spells out capitalism-denouncing, ironic sentiments like “I shop, therefore I am” or “I see culture, I take out my checkbook” seems logical, but tends to be foolishly ignored by people obsessed with graphic t-shirts. Her savage fools.doc response to Complex’s request for comment on the matter was quite definitive, though.
And with that being said, I have to admit: every time I thought I was out, they pull me back in. This recent season alone, the Aphex Twin capsule and the resurrection of Hiroshi Fujiwara’s GOODENOUGH hit just the right mark for me. Add a “Lost In Translation” collection to that list (including an Air Woven), and my 17-year-old self would feel suspiciously seen, doubting whether he was living in a simulation revolving around a red box logo for some reason. And still, from my personal perspective, the appeal for many collaboration capsules is way more nostalgic by now. Albeit Supreme has always having been a brand rooted in nostalgia in the sense of valuing qualitatively consistent references and untouchable relevance, the brand seems to look backward even more in recent years, whereas before there was more of a balance between the proven concepts and current creative currents, while being quite trigger-shy on anything too trendy (Playboi Carti tee, anyone?). Rarer are the occasions of my discovering something through a Supreme collab, reference, or contribution, rather than recognizing something. Of course, Tony Soprano’s “"Remember When is the lowest form of conversation""-quote shouldn’t be taken too literally (otherwise large chunks of this text would be categorically nonsensical - and the majority of this website for that matter, and maybe it is), but still, it feels like the brand relied even more heavily on reminiscencing and playing it safe. It’s the classic journey from counter to pop. Not even the box logo monolith is immune. And with that came a reference to the time when they were counter, self-referencing, and re-hashing their own catalogue of iconography and design lore. You either die a hero or you live long enough to become the villain, I guess.
Lee “Scratch” Perry explaining how “knowledge reigns supreme” in a promotional video for Supreme (2010). Source: Supreme
Supreme has turned into “just” a brand now - a fairly established one at that. It might not be a cultural tastemaker (or gatekeeper) it once was, and is increasingly losing its skate identity; however, in a fashion world and trend cycle surprisingly enchanted by “good clothes” instead of a now too easily understood hype machinery, they can still hold their ground with competently made pieces. Working with young talents in the space like AOI Industries or Angels Pond not in the framework of a “collaboration” and more on a seemingly commissioned work basis gives those interesting ideas a more wide-spread platform, and ideally results in solid “good” clothes, in the very thing that according to the mythical lore told by James Jebbia himself, was the main objective of building the brand as an self-reliant entitiy out of a skate shop ecosystem. Supreme might not have turned villain completely, but rather settled into a recurring character role, making cameos in the contemporary fashion discourse, (the world of skateboarding,) trend cycles, and wardrobes every now and then.
