They were called ugly, bulky, garden-party shoes for people who gave up on fashion without even trying. But somewhere between mall kiosks and Paris Fashion Week, Crocs became an attribute of street fashion.
That doesn't mean they became the must-have fashion item, and that is exactly the point. Crocs went from being mocked for their ugliness to being celebrated precisely because of it. Over the past two decades, they’ve evolved from boat shoes to streetwear icons, collectables, TikTok trends, and even runway regulars.
But how did a shoe designed for comfort conquer street culture, dominate fashion timelines, and rack up resale value?
This is the journey of Crocs: from footnote to fashion force.
Born on a Boat
It's a common misconception that Crocs were originally designed as garden shoes or something similar. Actually, they started on a boat.
Launched in 2002, the original Crocs design was based on a boating clog made from Croslite, a proprietary foam that made them lightweight and ridiculously comfortable. The name (and the logo) came from the crocodile, symbolising a hybrid that is perfect for both sea and land.
By 2005, Crocs were everywhere, thanks to their availability in mall kiosks, souvenir shops, and tourist-heavy stores across America. People loved the comfort.
Style? Not exactly. But that didn't matter, just yet.
The Rise and Fall
Crocs hit its first high in the mid-2000s, and in 2006 it went public, becoming the biggest U.S. footwear IPO at the time. The very same year, they acquired Jibbitz, custom charms that snapped into the holes of Crocs, making their first steps toward becoming a low-key fashion statement.
By 2007, Crocs were a billion-dollar brand.
And then came 2008… The financial crash hit, the novelty wore off, and Crocs slipped into meme territory, becoming the go-to punchline for anti-fashion. People wore them at home or on hospital floors, but rarely with pride. The brand stalled, revenue fell, and the “cool” factor was nowhere to be seen.
But unlike other trend-fuelled footwear fads, Crocs didn't vanish; they pivoted.
Embracing the Ugly
In 2014, Crocs began a quiet transformation. They streamlined their product lineup, closed underperforming retail stores, and focused on the Classic Clog. They leaned into e-commerce and repositioned their core shoe as a blank canvas for self-expression. Then came the big shift: rather than fighting their reputation, they embraced it.
“Whether you love us or you hate us, you know who we are.”
Anne Mehlman, Brand President
This wasn't just clever marketing; it was a cultural strategy. In a world where irony and meme culture were defining taste, owning your weirdness became aspirational.
The Subculture Glow-Up
In 2016, designer Christopher Kane shocked the fashion world by putting his models in marble-print Crocs at London Fashion Week, completed with jewel-toned Jibbitz. A year later, Balenciaga dropped its now-infamous platform Crocs at Paris Fashion Week. What started as high-fashion irony turned into legit interest.
Suddenly, Crocs weren't just for practical professions or casual wearers. They were turning up in street style roundups, being worn by influencers and rappers, and popping up on TikToks of fashion influencers.
From Meme to Movement
So how did Crocs become more than a comfy clog? How did they slip into subcultures, streetwear, and even high fashion and actually stay there?
Crocs didn't just come back. They returned as a symbol of identity, rebellion, irony, and individuality. And different communities picked up on that in their own way.
Normcore and Post-Irony
To understand how Crocs ended up in fashion magazines and on the runways, you have to go back to the mid-2010s, when fashion was going through an identity crisis, and trying too hard stopped being cool. That's where came in.
Coined by trend forecasting group K-Hole in 2013, normcore wasn’t about dressing badly; it was about blending in on purpose. It was a reaction to hyper-styled, brand-obsessed fashion. Instead of chasing exclusivity, normcore leaned into the comfort and anonymity of mass-market basics. Irony wasn't the goal; freedom from fashion pressure was.
Then came the post-irony, and things got even weirder (in a good way).
In the post-ironic fashion era, which stretches from the mid-2010s into today, ugly became intentional. Wearing something strange wasn't just funny or ironic; it became a way to say you had a point of view. You didn't just like Crocs, ironically. You liked them because they were wrong. And that became right.
They were already practical, strange-looking, and everywhere. But once fashion started celebrating weirdness, self-awareness, and individuality, Crocs suddenly made sense in the new style language.
So while they weren't designed with fashion in mind, Crocs ended up becoming a perfect symbol of normcore’s comfort-driven mindset, and later, post-irony’s love of the unexpected.
Streetwear and TikTok
At first, they felt like a contradiction: foam clogs in a world of designer sneakers and precision-styled silhouettes. But streetwear has always thrived in the unexpected–mixing low with high, practicality with glamour.
When stylists and sneakerheads started pairing Crocs with cargos, puffer jackets, or oversized tailoring, it wasn't about comfort. It was about contrast. Crocs gave the most curated streetwear fit a weird, offbeat edge. And people noticed.
At the same time, TikTok became a major force in how fashion was seen, shared, and shaped. Fashion creators used them in styling challenges, thrift hauls, and ugly shoes trend cycles. Gen Z turned Crocs into a kind of fashion experiment.
Crocs fit into a cultural shift in both streetwear and digital fashion: a move towards authentic over polished, irony over perfection, and style that doesn't take itself too seriously. Because Crocs had already been rejected by mainstream fashion once, they returned with something rarer: freedom.
Drop Culture
Around 2017, the brand started tapping into drop culture: short-run, limited-edition collaborations that sell out fast and spark massive conversation. The game-changer was Balenciaga platform crocs at Paris Fashion Week.
Then came Post Malone’s 2018 collab, which disappeared in under two hours. Crocs had officially entered hype territory, and they didn't stop. In the years that followed, they dropped wild, viral collaborations with Bad Bunny, Justin Bieber, KFC, Diplo, and even Hidden Valley Ranch (a brand of America's most popular salad dressing).
What made it work wasn't just the names; it was the surprise factor, the limited supply, and the fact that Crocs were never trying to be sneakers. That made them collectable on their own terms.
By 2022, the brand had teamed up with over 20 creators in a single year, with some drops reselling on StockX and eBay.
From Niche to Narrative
To sum up: Crocs didn't change, but we did. Fashion became less about fitting in and more about standing out. The idea of what’s “cool” cracked open, and suddenly, Crocs didn't feel like a joke anymore.
Crocs succeeded by leaning into the absurd, by turning rejection into identity, and by letting wearers define what the shoe means for themselves. In a landscape where fashion often feels exclusive, curated, and polished to perfection, Crocs offered something strange, open-ended, and totally unserious, and that’s exactly what made them matter.
