It’s High Time The Divisive Havaiana Flip

Nov 05, 2023

By Daniel Rodgers

There is something incredible about seeing a tanned foot slide into a flip-flop. And when a Havaiana hits the ground, it slaps the sole. It is the perfect ASMR and – depending on whether you are Quentin Tarantino or not – a very powerful aphrodisiac. It simultaneously evokes freedom (a flip-flop is not so much a shoe as it is the absence of restriction), and an exotic strain of hedonism. It is a shoe for people who want to feel the wind between their toes and to live life unconfined by oppressive straps and buckles and laces. The kind of person who might say, “What, I’ve never heard of Slack?” while passing you an ice-cold Caipirinha.

Around since the 1960s, the Havaiana was initially designed for blue-collar workers but now exists in service to land and sea, to triangle bikinis and too-tight Y-fronts. In 2009, the label hosted a global model search, which is precisely the kind of activation I want to see from a brand like Havaianas. And though it has since experimented with more youth-led initiatives (releasing a square-toed sandal and a campaign with fellow Brasileira Barbie Ferreira), it is the cheap £20 tradicional style that remains its most evocative. They’re not trying to make an outré fashion statement or align themselves with a particular trend, their sole purpose in life – much like the smooth-brained Ken doll – is quite literally “beach”.

Kim Kardashian in Havaiana flip-flops.

By Hannah Coates

By Daniel Rodgers

By Michel Mejía

And that tactile flag that sits above the third toe telegraphs so much: a bikini-clad Gisele Bündchen – who launched a competitor line of sandals in 2002 – playing volleyball on Ipanema Beach, while goofball men challenge each other to chin-up contests with their flip-flops dangling from their big toes. Up there with football and Samba music, the pleasure-seeking lifestyle that Havaianas have come to symbolise isn’t an accurate reflection of Brazilian culture so much as it is an example of how the country has been exported via pop culture. A lush and exotic paradise awash with street parties and future supermodels.

Earlier this month, I was speaking to Biz Sherbert – who is one third of the fashion-for-smart-people podcast Nymphet Alumni – about there being a cultural rediscovery of the Havaiana lifestyle. “I love the idea of fashion girls flip-flopping around,” she said. “A couple of years ago people would have thought you were a disgusting freak for wearing flip-flops in the city, but there’s something happening with people caring less. My friend won’t stop wearing them in urban centres around the world.” The sheer number of celebrities papped in pyjama shorts over the past month only backs up this hypothesis. Lily-Rose Depp wore hers with a pair of Scholls, which I’d consider a mall-adjacent relative of the Havaiana.

Tyson Beckford embracing the flip-flop lifestyle.

By Hannah Coates

By Daniel Rodgers

By Michel Mejía

“Hmmm, why are Havaianas slapping so hard right now?” Sherbert says when we revisit the conversation. “There’s so much conversation around dad sneakers and Crocs and kitten heels making a comeback, but there’s something quite physical about people’s disdain for the flip-flop, which makes them more radical. They’re so deeply utilitarian. You roll up to the bar in a pair of Havaianas and you still look good? That’s cool. The casual signalling that you’ve been to a different destination recently is very chic. You just walked off the aeroplane and now you’re going about your business? It’s unmatched. Once you start wearing them, you realise that you’ve been a loser for not wearing them all along.”

To hit the pavement in a thong sandal that makes the soles of your feet resemble those of a Victorian street urchin might represent the final level of luxury: laziness. But that’s also why so many people are likely to take umbrage with the do-nothing flip-flop. Isn’t that what people wear to take the bins out? Or to avoid picking up a verruca in public showers? I would challenge those naysayers to close their eyes and enter into their mind palace. You are not purchasing household essentials in an air-conditioned Budgens, you are treading the Copacabana boardwalk. TikTok – where the Brazilian baby tee is a ubiquitous OOTD staple – understands this (as does Hailey Bieber who looked like she was attending the 2014 World Cup in her navel-grazing belly chain).

Paris Hilton wore her fair share of Havaianas in the Noughties.

By Hannah Coates

By Daniel Rodgers

By Michel Mejía

A Havaiana comeback is the logical endpoint of all the football scarves and vintage jerseys that have been popularised under the “blokecore” search tag on social media, where people film themselves drinking lager while wearing straight-legged jeans, their white socks poking out of Adidas Sambas. These are the people who seem like they are into football, but are more into clothes. And while the UK might be credited with inventing the “beautiful game”, it was Brazil – with its 16,000 professional players – that made the sport a worldwide phenomenon. Pele, Ronaldinho, Neymar, Thiago Silva… there is a reason the country is referred to as the país do futebol, and a reason why fashion observers are casting themselves as patriotic terrace babes at the 2002 England vs Brazil World Cup game.

It would be all too easy to connect the allure of the Havaiana to fashion’s ongoing obsession with unusual footwear. But I would argue that the so-called “ugly shoe” has been mainstreamed to such an extent that most of them no longer register as unattractive: Naomi Campbell wears balloon heels and Victoria Beckham wears Croots and Pamela Anderson wears whatever these are meant to be. Most of these are aestheticised, cartoon versions of ugliness that seem to have been designed with the specific intention of travelling long distances on the feed. None of them would inspire as much horror as a pair of Skechers or Geox or some toe-baring flip-flops, for example.

Of course, the Havaiana doesn’t care how it might be perceived. It sits outside of fashion and has that same unshakeable self-confidence I imagine a lifeguard might possess. Plus, it is too busy applying Piz Buin factor five to its rampart-like shoulders to think for even a split-second about anything.

Havaianas Slim Flip-Flops

Havaianas

Havaianas Brazil Logo Flip-Flops

Havaianas