The boxes are stacked like books, hurried and askew, one atop another until the towers – just centimetres from the ceiling – begin to buckle. They lean together, one colour, one brand into the next: the orange Nikes, the black adidas, the blue Brooks, every label facing outwards. David Iding stores them here, well over 300 pairs, on the second floor of his century-old home in Pennsylvania, in his daughter’s old bedroom, where they obscure the baby-blue walls and clutter the creaking pine floors, and where a January sun filters through finger-smudged windows to bathe the room in a soft morning glow.
Hair wrapped in a loose bun, Iding – still “half hippie” at 52, he claims, and a recovering alcoholic – reaches for a black adidas box at the…
