The next day, a friend informs me excitedly that a Havaianas store had just opened in Glorietta. It is only when I come to meet the owner of All Flip-Flops when I finally realize what that means. The small store is practically covered by a barrage of shoppers, with the entrance flanked by a bouncer in a dark T-shirt that reads "Flip-Flop Security," complete with a strap to cordon off the area if the crowd gets too big. Yesiree, this must be the Havaianas store that girls have been shrieking about in public restrooms, ogling other girls’ purchases like they were diamonds from Sierra Leone.
"First of all, this isn’t a Havaianas store," owner Abba Napa says. Then what’s with the sign on the side that says Havaianas in the label’s signature font? "We are a flip-flop store that sells only Havaianas," she adds. Confusing? Havaianas, for those who have been living a label-free slipper existence, is one of the hugest things to come out of Brazil since maybe Gisele Bundchen. In 2001, a record year for the company, exports of the slippers all over the world caused a global phenomenon the likes of Us Weekly and In Touch were quick to document, publishing photos of celebrities like Kate Hudson wearing the casual footwear and featuring goodie bags from the Oscars filled with Swarovski-embellished versions. Havaianas, which became famous for their claim of comfort and durability (their slippers don’t retain odor or lose shape), are all made in Brazil and can now be found in over 70 countries around the globe. The only slippers solely featured in store windows of exclusive department stores like Printemps in Paris, Lane Crawford in Hong Kong and Saks Fifth Avenue in New York, the craze for these rubber thongs has only just begun.
The day we meet at the store, it’s crowded and filled with people buying slippers, sometimes not just one pair but two or three. In a time when the president is calling for energy conservation and the front page of newspapers, extolling rising price hikes and lowering peso values, continually denounce the sagging economy, it seems odd to have a consumer base so eager to purchase. Price is no issue, it seems, for these buyers. Abba, who opened the store only a few weeks ago, already has stories to tell about insane customers willing to do anything to get their Havaianas fix. "One woman called the store about a certain style. When she found out we were ordering stocks for that style, she asked if she could reserve, which we don’t do. She was quite persistent, even going so far as to ask if she could just pay in advance, then the store could just call her up when her pair arrived."
One father, buying a pair for his teenage daughter, had accidentally chosen the wrong pattern (she wanted black on white colored hearts; he had gotten white on black). When he called the store asking if he could exchange it for the right pair, he was told, to his dismay, that there was only one pair left. Since the store was closing in 10 minutes, there wasn’t enough time to come over and purchase it. "If I come in when you open, will it still be there?" he asked Abba anxiously. Since there was still one customer left in the premises, she couldn’t promise him anything. The father, keen on making sure his daughter’s slippers were safe, stayed on the line for the entire 10 minutes till closing so he could wait to find out if they were still available. "The next day," Abba says, "he was there at 9:55a.m., expectantly waiting at the door."
Prints are a big part of the Havaianas look book, with quaint florals and bright bold hues. IPE, the line created for the Institute for Ecological Research, features high-definition tropical prints with animals in their natural habitat like the black lion-faced monkey, a personal favorite of mine. Whenever you buy a pair, seven percent of net profits from the slippers go to conserving parks where these endangered species occur.
Strangely enough, the bestseller isn’t the Top style, which often goes out of stock, but the High Look, the platform version of the slipper. Reminiscent of the Spice Girls, the style seems to be a favorite of mothers and daughters, who often come in pairs to purchase it.
"Maybe Filipinos are beginning to realize that we live in a tropical country," she laughs. "You don’t have to wear boots and jackets all the time."