“When I was younger, what you saw on the streets was cool,” says Kris Boyle.
“In the ’90s and early noughties, if it was accepted on the streets, everybody wanted to wear it.
“Now I don’t think it’s the same, kids go by what they see on YouTube, or want high fashion clothes instead of streetwear.”
Kris, 37, is speaking from behind the shoebox-themed counter of his shop Dundee Sole, located in the city’s Wellgate shopping centre after moving from the Hilltown in 2023.
Behind him, precarious stacks of trainer boxes jostle with custom football T-shirts, news cuttings and 90s music merch for attention.
A design by Dundee graffiti artist Syke explodes across the wall, and a wee white dog with a missing eye pootles about under the counter. (His name is Alfie, I learn later.)
The shop feels like a time capsule, spinning back through the decades to encompass casual culture and loud ’80s athleisure.
There are rare trainer styles in locked glass cases, such as a pair of Adidas Liverpool Originals.
To me, trainers have always just been running shoes, but here I’m discovering that they are a much more serious business.
Looking around, I see no price tags, but when a customer asks how much they are during our visit, the figure Kris gives is just shy of £400.
I ask how what his most expensive sale has been over the years.
“A single pair of vintage Adidas ZX 600s sold for about £900 a few years ago,” he says breezily. I’m naively stunned.
I want to know more about this rubber-soled subculture.
The wonderful world of trainer collectors
An avid buyer of rare and vintage trainers – he had 3000+ pairs at one point – Kris started his business by teaching himself how to repair and restore trainers while working in a barber’s shop in 2018.
“You get a buzz when you find something from a time gone by that’s rare to get now,” he explains. “It’s like Storage Wars – you know when you’ve got a good bundle.”
He was inspired by Argentine Adidas connoisseur Carols Ruiz, who was featured in 2014 documentary series Sole Searching in South America.
The sight of Ruiz’s shop stacked high with vintage trainer boxes became Kris’ vision board.
Now he has his own loyal collectors across Tayside.
“Collectors are funny people,” Kris says fondly. “I don’t actually class myself as a collector, I’m just somebody who’s got loads of stuff. Collectors are mad.
“A lot of the stuff you see in here, from 2010, 2011, 2017 – you won’t see that on the street. People will buy those to add to their collections.”
I’m bemused – why buy trainers if you’re not going to wear them? – but I roll with it. After all, people with shelves full of pet rocks shouldn’t throw their (precious) stones.
Kris’ first shop, in a unit on the Hilltown, combined his trainer cleaning and restoration services with selling rare shoes.
But since moving into his bigger Wellgate premises in 2023, he’s branched out into vintage apparel too.
‘My first Stone Island top was a fake’
While the stock in Dundee Sole is not what you see on high street racks in 2025, Kris’ motto is: “Fashion is temporary, style is permanent”.
“I’d say 80% of the stuff in here is just stuff I like,” smiles Kris.
“The other 20% is stuff I know people will buy.”
Coming of age in Dundee in the early noughties, Kris was inspired by football casual style and films like Football Factory (2004).
“That era gave a huge revamp to lads wearing these sorts of clothes. Adidas was making a comeback, there was just a huge culture of it at the time.”
What was Kris himself wearing back then?
“Anything I could afford!”
Trainer restoration is ‘bread and butter’
As with any high street business, the cost of living crisis has put the squeeze on Dundee Sole.
But the nature of the shop – quality items for second-hand prices – means Kris and has staff managed to make at least one sale a day every day over February and March 2025.
“It’s good, considering the winter months are the hardest,” says Kris.
At the heart of it, behind the flashy racks of clothing and shelves of shoes, is Kris’ restoration workshop.
It’s here he spends most of his time, bringing stained or damaged shoes or handbags (Ugg boots are a popular patient) back to life with tiny hard-bristle brushes, chemical concoctions and a lot of care.
“That’s my bread and butter,” he shrugs.
“That’s what I started with, and it’s a big part of things. It means folk can avoid buying a new pair of shoes, when sorting their own out is a fraction of the cost.”
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