Look down and check what you’re wearing on your feet. If it’s a pair of Adidas Sambas, I’m afraid you need to take them off immediately and never wear them again. Sorry. I don’t make the rules. Blame our beleaguered leader. In an Instagram video last Thursday, Rishi Sunak wore Sambas during a Downing Street interview to promote his tax policies. The doomed prime minister went for a white pair with navy stripes, teamed with skinny slacks and a tailored white shirt. Listen carefully and you could hear the death knell tolling for the trainer du jour.
The ubiquitous gum-soled, trio-striped trainers are beloved by everyone from rappers to supermodels. They’ve been hailed as “this year’s It-footwear”, “the official shoe of the season”, “the defining sneaker of our age”. They’re what Converse All Stars were in the 00s or Stan Smiths in the 2010s. A retro casual classic. An archival pub shoe that works almost anywhere.
According to the Evening Standard, they’re like rats. In London, you’re never more than six feet away from a pair of Sambas. Well, no more. Nothing kills off a sartorial item’s perceived cool like a widely reviled politician being snapped sporting it.
GQ magazine rushed out an op-ed headlined: “Can Rishi Sunak leave the Adidas Samba alone, please?” Even the Daily Mail stuck the jackboot in, running an article headlined: “Rishi Sunak roasted after wearing Adidas Sambas to ‘try and appear normal’.”
Journalist Ed Cumming tweeted: “Thinking of the Adidas Samba community at this difficult time.” A social media sneakerhead added: “In 2025, sales of Adidas Sambas were so low that the ailing sportswear giant was forced to discontinue them. To this day, no one knows why.” Others are speculating that the shoes were a gift from Nike as a sly spot of corporate sabotage. Former Scottish Conservative leader Ruth Davidson put it most succinctly: “Holy shitbiscuits.”
Sambas suddenly aren’t just uncool – they’re a bit Tory. The chosen trainers of the lame duck leader of a dying government. File alongside cashmere hoodies, Canada Goose parkas, Timberland boots and shrunken suits. It’s a look that aims for Succession-style stealth wealth but lands on midlife crisis fintech mogul. It didn’t help that Sunak’s Sambas were pristine and box-fresh. They looked squeaky, stiff and unconvincing, rather like the man himself – rubbing against the nation’s heel, leaving us red and sore.
His sneakers might come from the opposite end of the class spectrum to that time when Danniella Westbrook and her baby were photographed in Burberry check. But the effect is the same – a killer blow to the object’s cachet. The only place where Sambas now have any street cred is Downing Street. And the clock is ticking on that one.
The PM has already proved the world’s worst waiter and pint-puller for photo ops. He admits to having no working-class friends, can’t use a contactless card and sounds like an alien when he talks about stacking the dishwasher. Yet another try-hard bid to appear relatable has backfired. Overnight, old-school favourites have become Tory trotters. Talk about putting your foot in it.
Michael Hogan writes about lifestyle and entertainment, specialising in pop culture and TV
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