CAN REEBOK REBOUND FROM IRRELEVANCE?

Once a giant in both performance and streetwear, Reebok has quietly slipped into the shadows — the red-headed stepchild of the sneaker industry. But with new ownership, timeless silhouettes, and untapped cultural capital, could the brand be poised for a return to greatness?

Founded in 1958 by Joe and Jeff Foster — grandsons of J.W. Foster, a pioneer in spiked running shoes six decades earlier — Reebok began as a cycling-focused operation in Bolton, England. But by the 1980s, following its North American rights deal with Paul Fireman, the brand had exploded into a global powerhouse. It dominated the aerobics boom, claimed a huge share of the women’s fitness market, and carved out serious credibility in performance and pop culture alike. At its peak, Reebok wasn’t just competing with Nike — it was outselling them, earning the nickname “the Nike Killer.”

Fireman acquired full ownership of the company in 1984, but by the mid-2000s, the train had begun to slow. A string of missteps — from shifting identities to missed cultural moments — left Reebok struggling to define its place in a rapidly evolving sneaker landscape.

THE GREAT ASCENT: FROM BOLTON TO A BILLION

Reebok’s climb to global relevance wasn’t accidental. It was the result of savvy market positioning, cultural awareness, and a few lightning-in-a-bottle moments that turned the brand from a modest British operation into a transatlantic juggernaut.

It started with a name. In 1960, Joe Foster returned to a childhood prize — an American dictionary he’d won in a local race at aged 8 — and came across the word Reebok, a small African gazelle. It was short, fast, and distinctive. A perfect fit. There was one catch: their agents warned the trademark would initially sit in Section B of the register, meaning the name was protected only so long as no one else made running shoes from reebok skin. Just ten years later, due to the brand’s growing recognition, the name was moved to Section A. Reebok had arrived.

Reebok Freestyle (1986)

At the time, adidas and Puma were fighting it out over the football market, and the space was too expensive — and too crowded — for a smaller player like Reebok. So Joe and Jeff Foster looked elsewhere. They spotted “white space” in athletics, where there was less competition and more upside. A government-funded export initiative helped Joe Foster travel to the U.S. to test the waters. By 1979, Runner’s World awarded five-star ratings to three Reebok models — the Inca, Midas, and Aztec. A spark had been lit.

But the wildfire came with aerobics.

It all began in early 1980s Los Angeles. Reebok tech rep Arnold Martinez noticed his wife returning from aerobics classes glowing with energy. Back then, the activity was a niche, underground fitness scene — far from the billion-dollar industry it would become. Martinez attended a class himself and had a revelation: this was a room full of highly engaged women with no proper footwear made for them. As Joe Foster would later recall:

“Why don’t we make an aerobics shoe, in women’s sizes, on a women’s last, with a nice glove leather upper? That was his idea.”

Martinez pitched the concept to Paul Fireman who initially dismissed it. Running, not aerobics, was the priority. So Martinez took to the business back door. He approached Steve Liggett, head of Reebok production in the UK, and got the green light to produce 200 sample pairs. These were distributed to classes across LA, and the reaction was immediate. The original design used glove leather, which tore under heavy use — but after switching to more durable garment leather, the product found its form.

Then came the moment that changed everything: Jane Fonda bought a pair for her wildly popular workout tapes. The Freestyle was no longer a niche innovation — it was a cultural event. Suddenly, fitness fashion was real. Cybill Shepherd wore Freestyles to the Emmys. Mick Jagger danced in them on MTV. In a space no one else thought to serve, Reebok had landed the defining shoe.

From 1983 to 1987, Reebok’s sales exploded — jumping from $9 million to $900 million in just four years. The brand hit over $1.39 billion in 1987 and would never drop below that threshold again. The Freestyle didn’t just create a category — it made Reebok a lifestyle brand for women before lifestyle was even part of the sneaker lexicon.

With that success, Reebok doubled down. The Workout followed in 1986. That same year, Ellen Ripley stomped through Aliens in a futuristic pair of Reeboks — a precursor to today’s beloved Alien Stomper. Then came the Reebok Pump in 1989 — a marvel of marketing and tech, designed by Paul Litchfield and later immortalised by Dee Brown’s no-look dunk at the 1991 NBA Slam Dunk Contest. And let's not forget Shaq, signed in 1992, and Allen Iverson, who inked a 10-year deal in 1996 that would birth the Question and Answer series.

In the early 2000s, Reebok’s basketball credibility flowed into music, too. The brand dropped the S. Carter with Jay-Z and launched the G-Unit line with 50 Cent, linking the hardwood with the streets.

For a moment, Reebok had it all: women’s fitness, performance innovation, basketball credibility, and cultural crossover. Few brands could touch that range — and for a time, none did.

THE FALL: HOW REEBOK LOST THEIR FOOTING

In 1989, Joe Foster retired from his position at the brand, though he remained connected as a global ambassador. Reebok still had a few strong years left after Foster stepped back. The Pump, Shaq, Iverson — culturally, the brand was still punching above its weight well into the ’90s.

Here in the UK, Reebok dominated through its Classic line — particularly the Classic Leather and Workout silhouettes. At a time when Nike and adidas were still largely focused on mainstream sports (e.g. football), and lifestyle models were less accessible and often more expensive (think Air Max and the like), Reebok offered something different: affordable, stylish, and perfectly aligned with the trends of the time. The brand tapped into a growing movement of youth and terrace culture — a generation looking for sneakers that worked both on and off the pitch. Reeboks became a uniform of sorts: worn in classrooms, pubs, pool halls, and terraces across the country, and just as at home on the streets as they were on the dance floor. The Classic wasn’t about sport — it was about belonging. For me, and for many Brits, Reebok was more than a brand — it was part of our cultural identity.

But competition was showing early signs of heating up. Nike had wrestled back the #1 spot globally and was fast becoming a cultural juggernaut, driven by the unstoppable force of Michael Jordan and the globalisation of sneaker culture. Reebok, once the hungry challenger brand, was suddenly an emerging market leader under siege — a position that proved harder to maintain than to chase.

Reebok x Jay-Z - S.Carter (2003)

Still, through the late ’90s and early 2000s, basketball and music kept Reebok firmly relevant across the pond. The brand’s partnerships with Shaq, Allen Iverson, Jay-Z (with the S. Carter line), and 50 Cent (with G-Unit sneakers) gave it undeniable cultural currency. And in the UK, the Reebok Classic line maintained a unique cultural resonance — woven into everything from early grime and garage scenes to casual and terrace fashion.

But behind the scenes, cracks were forming. The product pipeline slowed. Innovation arguably lagged. The brand began leaning on short-term cultural moments rather than building a consistent long-term identity. The energy of the aerobics boom was long gone, and while basketball and music partnerships delivered the lion’s share of relevance, they couldn’t fully stabilise the business.

Then came a monumental shift: in early 2006, Reebok was acquired by none other than the three stripes, for a cool $3.8 billion. The move made sense on paper — adidas wanted to close the gap with Nike, but in execution, it proved a little more complicated.

Rather than doubling down on Reebok’s basketball and cultural strengths — or tapping further into its UK credibility — the brand was repositioned around fitness in 2010, most notably by championing the trend of the moment, much like it had done with aerobics decades earlier. That trend was CrossFit!

At the time, CrossFit was a booming niche, but the pivot pulled Reebok out of mainstream culture and into a narrower, more niche lane. While CrossFit athletes loved their Reeboks, the brand’s broader relevance in fashion, music, and street culture faded almost overnight. This was also the era when fairly new brands like Under Armour were building momentum, with a firm grip on similar fitness categories like CrossFit. In hindsight, this was perhaps the first real misstep with the Reebok brand. By chasing a niche, they abandoned the mass-market appeal and cultural heat that had once made the brand a force to be reckoned with.

Meanwhile, the rest of the sneaker world was accelerating. Nike was untouchable. adidas was growing fast. Puma, Asics and New Balance were re-energising their heritage lines. Reebok, by contrast, was caught in an identity crisis — not quite a performance brand, not quite a lifestyle brand, and struggling to find its place in an increasingly competitive market.

By the late 2010s, Reebok had largely missed the retro revival wave that powered so many of its competitors. Its retail presence dwindled, and the once-golden Pump and Classic Leather became afterthoughts for a new generation of sneakerheads.

In 2021, adidas sold Reebok to Authentic Brands Group for $2.5 billion — notably less than its original purchase price. Since then, the brand has faced the daunting task of rebuilding its identity and reclaiming cultural relevance. But hear me out — fashion trends are cyclical, and I wouldn’t be surprised if those green shoots start to emerge sooner than many expect.

HOW COULD REEBOK BUILD THEIR PATH TO RELEVANCE?

I want all brands to win in their own unique ways. There’s more than enough room in the market for an everyone wins mentality. And as a sneaker fan, it’s tough to watch a brand with so much history, heritage and personal connection struggle.

In my opinion, Reebok needs to work on a few crucial things.

Rediscover what made the brand distinctive in the first place — and update that for a new generation.

In fact, spend some time with that generation to gain valuable insight into what they want.

Reebok has an incredible opportunity to build something meaningful for Generation A — the next wave of potential sneaker fans who are just starting to shape their cultural preferences. This is a cohort that will come of age in a hyper-connected, hyper-fluid style landscape, where trends move fast and authenticity matters more than ever.

Reebok’s past success was rooted in finding white space, whether it was aerobics in the ’80s, UK subcultures in the ’90s, or hip-hop and basketball in the 2000s. The brand thrived when it leaned into emerging movements, not when it chased the mainstream. Now, the challenge is to reinterpret that DNA for this new generation.

What does belonging, self-expression, or counter-culture look like for Gen A? How can Reebok tap into their emerging communities — both online and offline — with product and storytelling that resonates today, not just yesterday? Crucially, this means looking forward as much as back. Retro can of course play a role, but I don’t think it can lead. Gen A will likely want sneakers that feel of their time, not their parents’. Reebok has a chance to define that space if they choose to embrace it.

Choose to lead with the UK.

It’s one of the few markets where Reebok’s cultural cachet still carries real weight — through music, terrace culture, youth movements, fashion scenes, and a variety of deeply rooted subcultures. The UK is Reebok’s spiritual home turf, and that’s where the next chapter should begin.

But the approach shouldn’t be about chasing global domination through a one-size-fits-all playbook. Instead, Reebok should go deep locally, collaborating with communities, artists, and creators on the ground. Put community first. Let the brand be shaped by real voices in the cities and strive to lead with authenticity.

And crucially: don’t focus all the energy on London. The UK’s creative heartbeat also runs through cities like Sheffield, Manchester, Liverpool, Newcastle, and Leeds — places where fashion, music, and youth culture thrive in their own unique ways. These are the kinds of cities where Reebok has the opportunity to feel authentic, not corporate. Let the energy incubate there first, then allow it to flow naturally into London and eventually out into the wider UK — and where relevant, select pockets of Europe.

This is how cultural movements are built today: bottom-up, not top-down. For Reebok, the UK is still fertile ground. The brand just needs to tap it the right way.

Rebuild in the US by leading with culture, not fitness alone.

The identity crisis began when Reebok chased CrossFit at the expense of basketball, music, and streetwear — the very elements that often spark trends in the modern era. The Pump still has pull. Iverson’s legacy still resonates. And with today’s crossover between sneaker culture and various music scenes, there’s room for Reebok to re-establish itself where it once led.

Don’t fight the big players head-on. Instead, be the alternative — the brand for those who want something different from the usual Nike / Jordan / Three Stripes rotation. Think about how New Balance has thrived in recent years: by zigging while others zag.

Invest in design and innovation.

Retro alone won’t build a sustainable future — and quite frankly, the clock is ticking on the retro trend. Within a few years, today’s consumers will be looking for fresh takes, not just recycled classics. The Vector logo deserves to be seen on something forward-looking, not just archival.

Reebok needs new silhouettes that can stand next to a Samba or a 1906R or a GEL-Kayano 14 — lifestyle-first, but with technical credibility.

And above all: be patient.

Cultural relevance can’t be bought overnight. But fashion is cyclical. A new generation that didn’t live through Reebok’s first rise is hungry for brands with history, authenticity, and soul.

Reebok never really left…it just needs the right moment to remind the world why it mattered in the first place.