On Tabis
Last summer, I was taking the subway when a woman tapped my shoulder and asked me ever so politely: “Can you walk in those?” I looked down to what she was pointing at: my beloved MM X Reebok tabi sneakers. “I can,” I answered. “It’s just like wearing flip flops.”
This pales in comparison with the more recent New York Tabi thief, which was not only shockingly funny but also tapped into the universal fear of having one’s shoes stolen. The fame of Margiela’s Tabi shoes has only grown since their creation, and has undoubtedly reached its peak around certain online communities. However, wearing them out and about anywhere other than New York City can still earn their wearer certain suspicious stares; Tabis continue to be, after all, one of the most provocative models on the market. Seeing a shoe in which the division between the big toe and the rest of the digits is visible is not the most common thing you can find on a random American suburb or European street, and wearing them usually means being stared at or whispered about on any form of public transport. Part of the shock may be because, historically speaking, Western culture has never been a big fan of toe exposure: no item hinting at one’s toe shape has ever been extremely popular amongst the general public, as may be the case of the infamous five-toe sneakers.
Although brands like Nike or ASICS have had some earnest interpretations of this model, it is always Maison Margiela's shoes the ones we think of first after hearing the word Tabi. And, although Martin Margiela is not its original creator, he does take credit for deconstructing the model to the point of reinvention and thus popularizing it in the Western world.
Originally from Japan, the Tabis were cotton socks worn by the Japanese during the 15th century. Their aim was to protect the feet from the cold while wearing the toed sandals popular at the time and, although it took a long time to be in general use due to the scarcity of cotton—at first, only those who could afford them were able to wear them—this changed once the market opened up with China. Tabi socks were worn in different colors, each of them associated to a social stratum; from purple and golden socks for nobility to the peasant’s navy blue, the limited palette was already telling on where each person stood in the contemporary social hierarchy. It was believed that the separation between the big toe and the rest of the foot helped with balance through reflexology, which in turn helped with clear thinking and a clearer mind.
In the early 20th century and with the introduction of rubber in the Japanese market, these socks evolved into the jikatabi model, which had a rubber sole that allowed people to wear them without sandals underneath. Jikatabis were a more democratic type of footwear, being worn by people of different social classes until their gradual relegation in favor of shoes without a split toe. Their use was, and still is, reserved to traditional celebrations and festivals, although some workers continued to wear them on a regular basis.
It was not until 1988 when Martin Margiela, in the first fashion show of the brand known from then on as Maison Martin Margiela, reinvented the tabi silhouette. The brand’s debut show was held at the Cafe De La Gare in Paris and marked the debut of the model’s silhouette in the West, doing so in a wide variety of colors and designs (with the surprising exception of navy blue). In the show’s wrap up, the soles of each model's shoes were painted red, which made the prints left on the white runway draw even more attention to their hoof shape.
And thus, Martin Margiela and his team managed to successfully transform a traditionally utilitarian and largely unknown item in the Western world into one that would be considered disruptively exclusive in the years to come.
Curiously enough, Margiela’s first show was initially thought for women; the genderless trait that had characterized the tabi silhouette in its origins was demoted, and it was not until several years later that the brand began to include tabi footwear in its collections for men.
Even though commercial success was not immediate, MMM did manage to introduce the model in western countries and infuse it with its now characteristic exclusivity. Over time, the Tabi model became one of the hallmarks of the fashion house, and has managed to continue being one of Margiela’s symbols to this day. What’s more: under the direction of John Galliano, MM has been involved in a growing number of collaborations with brands such as Reebok, H&M or The North Face. These collaborations have often included variants of the Tabi model, serving as an example of the increasing popularization of the model.
With this increase in popularity, some corners of the internet have begun to wonder yet again: are Tabi’s cultural appropriation? Even though the Japanese have tried themselves to export this model several times over the years, the truth is that MM does not seem to make much effort to pay homage to its native country. To what extent is it the brand's responsibility? Is it the consumer's responsibility to notice these things and inform themselves about the origins of the items they wear? Isaac L. Davis, who dives deeper into this dilemma in their article From Margiela Tabi Boots to High-End Punks: Cultural Appropriation in Fashion, suggests that it might be as if one walked into a museum and found all the placards explaining the history of every art piece gone. To consume without context would be as close as we can get to this experience, as robbing a piece of art from its context is to strip them of its true charm and meaning.
In any case, the truth is that a multitude of different Tabi designs have been launched in recent times, it being possible to find tabi models under brands such as NIKE or Vetements—a brand created by Demna Gvasalia, who was subjected to some media scrutiny after launching the shoe model due to being a former Margiela worker. However, none of them have managed to generate the fascination of Margiela's revered design. Arabelle Sicardi, in her article BETWEEN TWO TOES: THE HISTORY OF MARGIELA’S CULT SHOE, attributes this to the famous notion of the "uncanny valley": Martin Margiela was able to reinterpret a model that was similar enough to a normal shoe for it to not be noticeable at first sight, but different enough to provoke a reaction in the other person once they do. As Sicardi points out, this might also have a lot to do with the choice of material and color; while beige leather models have an uncomfortable resemblance to a deformed foot or hoof, less discrete models such as the metallic silver one have a particular alienating power.
One thing is for sure: Tabi shoes have never left anyone indifferent. By wearing them, one might earn funny looks from children, or risk people asking them strange questions in the subway; but it also makes it easier to identify people with a similar sensitivity or vision, and often provoke a reaction on the average bystander. And, fundamentally, they are the perfect representatives of how something as simple as a split can make all the difference.
Paula Luengo is a fashion writer and columnist for Delude Magazine.