Dartmouth - B.A. in Economics
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Back-to-school shopping in elementary school, I remember being engulfed in the shoe aisle for hours. The shoe racks towering over me, I pored over every little feature— a bubble-lined casing on the back of a shoe; a hidden logo under the heel tab. Like a human microscope, I caught minute details that perhaps no one else ever noticed.
Since I was young, it’s always been in the back of my mind— what’s that on their feet? What is that shoe modeled off of?? But when I transitioned to a public school, my world of plain, modest shoes was flipped upside down into a realm of vibrant colors and abstract designs. When the bell rang for recess the first day, I stepped outside to glimpse a pair of tie-dye Kobes out on the asphalt. They reeled me closer like someone turned on an electromagnetic field. At home, I rifled through Footlocker’s website until I stumbled upon a pair of Kobe 10s. It was like I was looking in a mirror: I saw me in the design. They were monochrome blue, but their translucent midsole presented an air bubble that had a pop of pink.
When I pitched my findings to my parents, they were not amused. They simply could not fathom spending over a hundred dollars on a pair of shoes I would outgrow in six months.
Though I wouldn’t be lacing up my own Kobes anytime soon, I didn’t let parental practicality prevent me from dreaming. I delved into researching what made shoes popular. On the rare occasion I see a pair of black and red Jordan Twelves, I am teleported into Delta Center where Michael Jordan played his famous “flu game,” wobbling as he heaved from one side of the court to the other. When I see a pair of triple-white Ultraboosts, Kanye’s iconic performance at the PowerHouse 2015 concert plays out in front of me as he leaps through the air, catapulting the former dust collectors onto the feet of every sneakerhead.
Despite my knowledge growing like invasive bacteria, I had no means to acquire the shoes that filled my dreams. An opportunity arose on a family trip to California, however. Visiting the flagship Nike store in San Francisco, an assortment of pastel colors splattered onto one pair of Nike Dunks shouted out to me. Seeing them on the shelf, I glimpsed my first opportunity to put my research to practice in the resale market— they were priced $30 less than I had last seen on StockX.
My mom caught me showcasing the bright pair of shoes to my dad and an argument ensued. My mom couldn’t believe why anyone would pay even a dime for these atrocities, but my dad decided to invest in me: He would buy the shoes under the condition that I paid him back in full.
In my pitch to my dad, I omitted the information that in order to sell a pair of shoes, everything has to be in tip-top condition, including the box. I babied this pair of shoes from the mountains of Yosemite to the beaches of LA, bubble-wrapped with my clothes and strapped into the middle seat. On the flight home, I carried them onboard, stowing them under the seat in front of me, taking the place of my carry-on.
Though my only business experience had been playing Monopoly, I was able to sell the shoes for a profit of $30. My parents bought in and I began buying and selling any shoes I could get my hands on. I finally saved enough to purchase the Kobe 10s that had catalyzed my passion. But at the end of the day, what I was most thankful for was that my parents never bought me the Kobes in the first place. I tasted for the first time the overwhelming satisfaction of earning something for myself through hard work and passion.
