Shoppers showed up at Costco locations expecting toilet paper runs, only to find pallets stacked with Nike SB Dunk Lows branded Kirkland Signature.
The drop landed January 30, 2026, across nine spots from New York to California, with each store getting around 500 pairs under product code 1907597. Videos captured crowds snaking around aisles, members flashing cards for their one-pair limit, as staff handed out sizes amid the scramble.
No advance buzz from Nike or Costco fueled the shock factor. Rumors swirled since early 2024 leaks, pointing to a possible December 2025 launch or even Asia-only exclusivity, but reality struck US warehouses instead.
Brooklyn’s Costco drew national eyes with lines wrapping the block, people checking StockX apps mid-queue to gauge flips. One Reddit thread ballooned into a megathread , users posting hauls and gripes about resellers dominating pallets.
The gray fog upper mimics Kirkland’s hoodie fabric, complete with suede panels and a black outsole accented by gym red Nike SB tabs.
Insoles pack photoreal Kirkland graphics hiding a $1.50 hot dog label nod, while heels stamp “Kirkland Signature” branding. Extra laces in white, black, red, and striped gray let owners customize beyond the heather set.
Sneakerheads Flip Bulk Buy Into Quick Cash
Retail tags at $134.99 made these Dunks an instant value play compared to standard SB releases, often north of $150. Yet resale sites lit up fast: StockX listings climbed to $330 lowest ask by January 31, with some sizes pushing $400 as flippers cashed in. Brooklyn buyers eyed apps right there in line, calculating profits before lacing up.
This mashup flips Nike’s street cred against Costco’s everyday grind. Kirkland evokes value packs and membership perks, now fused into a silhouette born from 1980s skate roots.
Forums buzz with mixed takes: purists call it genius normcore irony, others slam resellers killing access for true fans. Nike, under new leadership, shifts from retro hype to performance, yet collabs like this prove lifestyle drops still pack stadiums.
Kirkland X Nike Costco SB Dunk (Credit: Nike)
Limited run amps scarcity. Stores like Queens at 32-50 Vernon Blvd, Portland’s 4849 NE 138th Ave, and Kirkland, WA’s 8629 120th Ave NE confirm no restocks planned. San Francisco’s 450 10th St and LA spots in Los Feliz and Laguna Niguel saw similar rushes, turning family shops into sneaker hunts.
Collab Roots and What Flip Culture Means Now
Whispers of this tie-up trace to 2024 image leaks, building hype through meme pages and sneaker blogs doubting it’d drop.
Nike SB thrives on bold pairings, from Travis Scott to Polar Skate Co, but Kirkland’s understated bulk vibe stands apart. The design pulls from Costco boxes and fleece staples, blending warehouse culture with Dunk legacy for viral appeal.
Social feeds exploded post-drop. Instagram reels broke down hidden tags mimicking Executive Membership cards, TikToks showed unboxings with pivot-circle treads for skate grip.
Reddit users debated quality against fakes flooding markets, noting replicas hurt casual buyers but boost authentic resale. One Portland commenter snagged a pair for dad vibes, not flips, highlighting split motives in the rush.
Bigger picture questions resale dominance. With 500 pairs per spot vanishing fast , everyday members vent frustration at pros buying limits to scalp. Nike’s strategy mixes nostalgia with surprise, echoing past Dunks that defined hype eras. Costco stays silent on online sales, keeping it in-store exclusive, which spikes desirability.
George Calombaris built a restaurant powerhouse called MAdE Establishment, running spots across Melbourne that drew crowds for Greek flavors and buzz. Things cracked open in 2017 when his team spotted payroll errors during a routine check.
They self-reported issues to Fair Work regulators, but numbers ballooned: 515 workers shorted around $7.8 million over six years, plus a bit more at linked burger joints.
His group owned up, repaid every cent at top overtime rates, coughed up $200,000 to the government as a sorry gesture, and signed on for audits and staff training.
Public backlash hit hard right away. Unions pushed for his head from MasterChef, where he’d judged since 2009 alongside mates Gary Mehigan and Matt Preston. Network 10 backed him at first, but days later, all three got the boot amid contract talks gone sour.
Calombaris called it devastating, owning the mess fully while insisting most staff got fair shakes or better. That payroll probe, meant to fix small slips, snowballed into a career gut punch, closing high-profile places like the Hellenic Republic after years of packed tables.
Fans split on his guilt; some saw sloppy systems in a fast hospitality grind, and others a boss dodging basics. Either way, the hit forced a total reset for the guy once seen as TV’s cheeky food boss.
Assault Tape and Empire’s Fall
Trouble didn’t stop at paychecks. Back in May 2017, at a packed A-League soccer final, video caught Calombaris punching a heckling teen in the gut after taunts about the wage news flew at him and his family.
He copped a $1000 fine after pleading guilty, though an appeal later tossed the conviction for a good behavior bond, with the judge noting light force and his solid rep. Brands bailed fast: a $500,000 car dealership gig and $250,000 dairy tie-up vanished, costing him over $750,000 total.
George Calombaris (Credit: BBC)
By February 2020, MADE filed for administration. Twelve venues shuttered instantly, axing 400 jobs; only the yogurt spot Yo-Chi hung on. Calombaris posted a raw note regretting the call, calling those months his toughest ever.
COVID lockdowns crushed any rebound hopes, leaving him pajama-bound in Melbourne, staring at a silent phone. That downtime sparked daily drinking that turned ugly one night when his brother hauled him from a drunk-driving incident, snapping him awake to face the spiral.
He later labeled 2018 his worst year, blending court runs, lost cash, and a booze haze. PTSD-like fallout lingered, he shared, turning a headline hunter into a guy craving quiet fixes.
Reality TV Raw Talk Signals Bounce-Back
Fast-forward to January 2026, and Calombaris drops into I’m A Celebrity’s South African jungle as a late intruder on Network 10, the same channel that ditched him years back.
Sleep-deprived chats with campmates like Luke Bateman let him unpack the wage mess honestly, stressing vulnerability over excuses. No pity was asked; just a platform to flip headlines, he said, hinting at more layers to air. Viewers’ buzz is mixed: some cheer the rebound story, others scroll past with eye rolls.
Hospitality pulls him back gently now. Since 2022, The Hellenic House Project in Highett has run as his solo spot, with no big-chain risks. Podcasts catch him plotting pubs, Indian promos, and fresh TV gigs, fueled by family dinners and chef loyalty tricks.
At 47, halfway through life, he eyes a second act: new eateries, mentoring, and even teases a reunion with the old MasterChef crew. Scandals scarred deep, but jungle rawness shows a chef hungry to cook up wins again, proving hospitality’s grind chews tough hides last.
