At a time when mainstream brands live in fear of getting dragged into a contentious political landscape, there’s something curiously benign, almost feel-good, about “Florsheimgate.”
If you’ve somehow missed it, this particular instance of an involuntary pop-culture brand cameo came about following press reports this week that President Donald Trump has become an enthusiast—and de facto brand ambassador—for Florsheim dress shoes, gifting pairs to cabinet members and media allies. The upshot is that less-than-$150 Florsheims have become “the hottest and most exclusive MAGA status symbol,” according to The Wall Street Journal.
But more to the point, administration insiders who don’t find the brand “hot” in the slightest, and would likely prefer more luxurious footwear, are sticking with the shoes Trump gives them—even, weirdly, if they don’t fit. This naturally caught the attention of MAGA critics, who promptly lit up social media with mockery of the 79-year-old president’s taste and allegedly Stalinesque bullying of his compliant minions.
And this included some collateral damage for the venerable, and some might say dowdy, Florsheim. But really, even the inevitable dunking (what a dated mall brand!) seemed good-humored. “Florsheim,” one Bluesky user wrote. “When a Gift From Wicks n’ Sticks Just Isn’t Enough.” Others added comments like “florsheim didn’t go out of business in like 1978?” and “Florsheim shoes? Man, that guy’s brain really is stuck in the 80’s” and “Ok I give. What’s Florsheim.” And of course plenty of memes.
Funny, but well short of a dangerous brand backlash. Nobody’s demonizing Florsheim-wearers in general, putting out videos of shooting up loafers, or organizing a grassroots brand-oppo campaign on behalf of Vuitton loafers.
To the contrary, it seems, at worst, to be a short-term, almost charming free publicity reminder to those who don’t know that the brand is still around—and, apparently, thriving. Turns out, Florsheim enjoyed “record” wholesale sales of $92 million in 2025, according to parent Weyco Group’s most recent earnings release and call earlier this month, “demonstrating resilience in a declining market for non-athletic brown shoes.”
The Florsheim brand has a choppy history dating all the way back to 1892. Worn by everyone from Harry Truman to Michael Jackson, it’s a brand deeply embedded in American consumer culture, a staple brand of the suburban shopping mall’s heyday. But it also endured a bankruptcy filing in 2002. It’s now part of the Weyco Group, whose CEO is Thomas Florsheim Jr., a fifth-generation Florsheim. (Sales of other Weyco brands Nunn Bush, Stacy Adams, and Bogs were down last year, dragging down revenue and earnings for the company overall.)
Weyco did not respond to an inquiry from Fast Company, but CEO Florsheim told The Journal he was not aware of Trump’s orders (and declined further comment).
In the conference call (which predated this week’s Trump fandom news), the CEO was upbeat, calling Florsheim “one of the few men’s [shoe] brands outside of the athletic category to sustain this level of post-pandemic growth. While the non-athletic brown shoe category has been in secular decline, Florsheim has bucked the trend and gained market share.”
Whether that’s true or not, the association with Trump seems more like a passing entertainment than a brand controversy. At a moment of profound tension brought on by war and the threat of a new global oil crisis, Florsheimgate didn’t land like a point of contention; it was more like comic relief.
In an interesting footnote, Weyco noted in its earnings call that tariff impacts—which CEO Florsheim has groused about in the past—“significantly affected gross margins” in 2025. Those tariffs have since been judged illegal by the Supreme Court, and the company “is optimistic about retrieving $16 million from tariff refunds.”
Maybe Trump’s Cabinet members should keep a spare pair of another brand’s loafers at the office, just in case Florsheim goes out of fashion at the White House.