On TikTook, a seek for “Frye Campus boots” yields a whole lot, if not hundreds, of movies in regards to the model. Some present off their collections of rare vintage Campus boots, whereas others simply lust for them in actual time. “They are slowly changing into my character, and I’ve worn them with each outfit I might,” says one influencer to camera, cradling her boots like a new child child. (At $500 a pop, they’re, arguably, worthy of the cradle.)
I used to be not prepared for the cultish degree of obsession over this 50-year-old model from a model which had, at varied factors throughout my three many years on Earth, been heralded as each the epitome of cringe and the zenith of cool. My 30-something colleagues and I all bear in mind our personal Frye-boot eras—the chokehold the knee-high side-zip using boot had over the ladies in my highschool was unparalleled—and have been bewildered because the 20-something girls in our lives spoke of setting restock alerts on their telephones and scouring their hometown classic shops for a stray pair.
So, what’s the deal? What is inflicting this huge resurgence of the Frye Campus boot?
Piera Onorati, senior Vice President of merchandising at Authentic Brands Group, which owns The Frye Company, credit “social media buzz and natural VIP placements” for driving the development. Onorati says the model has seen a 35% improve in gross sales of the Campus boot in 2024. And it is true, Gen Z icons like Olivia Rodrigo, Addison Rae, and Zendaya have all been photographed within the Frye Campus boot these days.
But to me, this development appears to transcend idolizing superstar model. Many of the boot’s largest champions on social media tout not simply its beauty options—its hefty stacked heel, its blunt, squared toe—however its historical past. Frye isn’t any Louis Vuitton or Gucci, however the identify carries weight.