DRIFT

Some shoes are designed merely to fill closets. Others are designed to fill space — to announce, confront, and reconfigure the way we move through the world.

The Converse x Rick Owens DRKSHDW TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” belongs firmly to the latter category: a silhouette so audacious, so heavily mutated from its basketball ancestry, that it seems less like a shoe and more like a manifesto made tangible.

In this latest evolution of the long-running partnership between Converse and Rick Owens, the avant-garde godfather of distortion once again turns familiar Americana inside out. He doesn’t simply remix the Converse Weapon — the 1980s hardwood staple — he inflates it, distorts it, weaponizes it, until the shoe becomes an object of almost sculptural menace.

And somehow, impossibly, it remains wearable.

The Mutation of an Icon

The Converse Weapon was once defined by athletic precision. It was the chosen armor of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, sharp-edged and purposeful.

Rick Owens takes that DNA and drags it through his brutalist imagination, resulting in the TURBOWPN: a swollen, theatrical reinterpretation where proportions are exaggerated, lines are blurred, and nostalgia is made strange.

The Low “Pelican” colorway amplifies this aesthetic even further.

Rendered in an ethereal off-white, bordering on bone, the shoe exudes a bleached, organic eeriness.

Where the silhouette suggests mass and weight, the color suggests lightness — a fascinating duality, like a concrete block carved out of cloud.

The TURBOWPN Low doesn’t whisper; it booms.

Even in its most muted tones, it commands attention with its enlarged padded collar, massive tongue, and heavy platform sole.

This is not a sneaker you casually wear — it is a shoe you inhabit.

Material and Form: A Study in Tension

From a materials standpoint, the TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” remains rigorously faithful to both Converse’s heritage and Owens’ DRKSHDW philosophy.

The upper blends premium heavy-duty canvas and coated leather, resulting in a tactile richness that feels almost industrial. There’s a roughness to the weave, a resistance to polish — every fiber seems to insist on its own rawness, its own imperfect beauty.

The overbuilt sole is rubberized but not slick; it grips both asphalt and imagination. Owens resists the temptation to over-refine. His design language here speaks not of speed or aerodynamic elegance, but of earthbound gravity.

Perhaps most notably, the sneaker feels hand-formed rather than mass-produced. Every stitch, every overlap, carries a sense of deliberate human intervention — a refusal to be flattened into corporate sameness.

The result is something paradoxical: a shoe both hyper-designed and deeply, stubbornly human.

The “Pelican” Tone: Lightness Beneath the Weight

Naming a shoe with such visual density after the pelican, a bird known for its airy soaring and peculiar elegance, feels like an inside joke at first. But spend time with the shoe, and the logic becomes clear.

The “Pelican” colorway lightens the TURBOWPN’s heavy architecture, offering a balancing act between density and levity.

The creamy off-white softens the aggressive lines.

The absence of stark contrast colors (no black-on-white drama here) lends the sneaker a quietness, even as its form roars.

It’s a clever inversion of expectations: the TURBOWPN Low may look like it should stomp and crash, but the “Pelican” suggests a strange sort of flight.

A heavy step that aspires, somehow, toward weightlessness.

Cultural Resonance: Distorting the Familiar

Every Rick Owens project with Converse operates on two levels: reimagining a product and reimagining what that product means.

By deforming a classic basketball sneaker, Owens questions the sanctity of the American athletic mythos.

He asks: What happens when we take an object of collective memory — something safe, heroic, nostalgic — and stretch it until it becomes monstrous?

Can it still be beautiful? Can it still be desirable?

The TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” is not interested in reverence.

It is interested in mutation — in evolution.

It suggests that heritage can be honored not by freezing it in time, but by allowing it to decay, expand, distort — by pushing it into uncomfortable new forms.

In this, Owens offers not a rejection of Converse’s past but a deepening of it.

The Weapon isn’t erased by the TURBOWPN — it is made mythic, through exaggeration, through hyperbole, through transformation.

Styling the TURBOWPN Low: Movement and Monoliths

Styling the TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” requires a certain philosophy of balance.

Because the shoe dominates visually, it demands intentional counterweighting in the rest of the outfit:

  • Structured trousers — wide-legged cargos or tailored drop-crotch pants — reinforce the sneaker’s architectural heft.
  • Monochrome palettes allow the Pelican’s subtle tonal variations to shine without visual noise.
  • Minimalist layering — elongated tees, cropped bombers, severe overcoats — create verticality to complement the sneaker’s grounded mass.

The key is movement within mass: creating the illusion of flight even while firmly planted.

On the feet, the TURBOWPN Low transforms the wearer into a kind of urban monument — part building, part being.

Impression

The Converse x Rick Owens DRKSHDW TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” is not for everyone.

It is confrontational. It is stubborn. It demands attention, thought, and — occasionally — patience.

But for those willing to accept its challenge, the reward is profound: a shoe that doesn’t just cover feet, but says something about history, about transformation, about what it means to carry weight and still aspire toward flight.

In a world addicted to effortless minimalism, the TURBOWPN Low “Pelican” reminds us that beauty can be heavy, flawed, and radical — and that sometimes, the most daring thing a shoe can do is simply refuse to shrink.

Concrete dreams, stitched into canvas and bone.

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