Ugg boots are back – and this time I’ll approach with caution

The year is 2009 and I’ve just had keyhole surgery on my knee. During my sixth-form free periods I head to hospital for post-op physiotherapy appointments. With one glance at the knock-off Ugg boots on my feet, the physio sighs. “You need to stop wearing those,” he says. “While you’re recovering, you need something with a bit more support.” Do I take his advice? Absolutely not. I carry on hobbling around in my crutches and fake Uggs combo for weeks, convinced that I am the height of cosy chic – because in the late Noughties, Ugg boots were undisputedly the “it” shoe of the moment.

Yes, these sheepskin-lined slippers looked a bit like a child’s sketch of a shoe come to life, and their rounded toes instantly made the daintiest of feet look cartoonish. But thanks to countless paparazzi shots showing celebrities such as Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez padding around toting massive handbags and Starbucks cups, these comfy boots became the epitome of off-duty style, fashionable without trying too hard.  Their allure was, for me, somehow greater than any practical considerations.

Just a few years after we hit peak Ugg, though, they were seemingly consigned to fashion history along with other Noughties favourites like footless tights and (shiver) jeggings. So imagine my surprise – verging on horror – to see Uggs make a stealthy but inescapable comeback over the past year or so. Now, they’re ready to win over a new generation with their snuggly but deeply unaesthetic charms – and I’m here, like the ghost of fashion crimes past, to warn you not to fall for them this time around.

So how did Uggs become the shoes that just won’t die out? Australian sheep shearers started wearing these boots more than a century ago, after realising that they were resistant to lanolin, the wax-like substance that occurs naturally in sheep’s wool, which caused leather to rot. No one is exactly sure when the term “ugg boot” emerged as a descriptor for this particular type of footwear. Some trace it back to the “fug boots” worn by aviators during the First World War; other origin stories claim it stuck simply because the boots were, well, a bit ugly.

In the Sixties and Seventies, they were adopted by surfers, who liked how the sheepskin lining would leave their feet soft and cosy soon after they returned to dry land (best not to think about all the sand inevitably getting caught up in there). By 1978, an Aussie expat named Brian Smith was living in the Californian surfing hotspot of Santa Monica and was trying to spot the next LA trend to market to Australians. Until, that is, he decided to do the exact opposite and bring Aussie style to America’s West Coast instead. He began importing the boots from his home country, eventually branding them with the name “UGG Australia” (since then, there have been countless disputes over whether “ugg” is a generic term or a protected trademark).

Pap shots of Pamela Anderson wearing the boots with her red Baywatch swimsuit in the Nineties brought Uggs (as in the capitalised brand and the general shoe style) to wider attention in the States. Soon, they became the de facto footwear for celebs being photographed hanging around between takes on a film set, or popping out to their local organic market. Kate Moss wore them tucked into impossibly skinny jeans; stars like Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton teamed them with micro minis or Juicy Couture trackies. Sienna Miller even took them to Glastonbury, boldly braving the inevitable muddy tide marks.

They occupied a strange, contradictory ground: sophisticated and aspirational, but also a little bit… hideous. Slowly, though, the consensus on Uggs started to change – and this shift was undeniably rooted in a certain snobbery. The cachet of real-deal Uggs meant that high street shops and market stalls were inevitably flooded with cheaper, lower quality copy cats, swapping the sheepskin for synthetic materials. It was, apparently, fine for beautiful, skinny celebrities to sport aesthetically unappealing shoes, but the average woman wearing them for the school run or a jaunt to the supermarket was deemed as some kind of outrage. They became a way to berate women for looking lazy or unkempt. People first branded them “chavvy”, then, later, they were deemed “basic”. Uggs, real or fake, entered the fashion wilderness.

It’s an inevitable quirk of fashion’s trend cycle that styles tend to come back to haunt us about a decade or so after they were first popular (it used to be longer, but this cycle seems to have sped up). So perhaps I shouldn’t have been shocked when Bella Hadid was spotted prancing around in a pair of Uggs, with the likes of Emily Ratajkowski, Kylie Jenner and Rihanna (an Ugg aficionado when they were in their original heyday) following in her fluffy footsteps.

UGG started collaborating with in-demand brands like Telfar to up its fashion credentials, and the 2023 film Saltburn helped catapult Noughties style back into the cultural conversation. In Emerald Fennell’s movie, you’ll see extras dressed in Ugg-style shoes as they’re walking around Oxford, teaming them with bodycon dresses or Jack Wills jumpers.

This year, the boots have cropped up in another much-talked-about movie, Babygirl, with Nicole Kidman’s high-powered CEO character sporting them to arrive at her office, pairing them with a truly luxurious tan coat (side note: does Kidman have it written into her contract that she will wear an array of incredible coats on screen?) And over on Instagram, you will see influencers with slicked-back buns wearing the shorter, slipper-style UGGs with their matching gym sets in neutral tones, a la Molly-Mae Hague. It’s striking how these once-maligned shoes have been quickly repositioned as a signifier of low-key luxury. I wonder whether once they start to take hold again, the old shamey criticisms will re-emerge.

It’s obviously ridiculous to ascribe moralising adjectives like “lazy” or “classless” to inanimate bits of fabric. My objection to Uggs has never been about those kinds of snobby concerns. Instead, it’s rooted in the fact that, if you’re living in the UK rather than enjoying some sort of charmed, sun-kissed existence as a Californian surfer, Ugg-style boots are just ridiculously impractical (if you’re planning to wear them outside the house, that is).

Once you’ve got them soggy, they can be tricky to clean, too. My fake Ugg era coincided with a few snowy winters: after I traipsed around in the sludge, the boots were forever scarred by tide marks, however many times I optimistically scrubbed. Plus, the cheap copycat versions are prone to collapsing around the ankles due to the loose fit and the lack of ankle support  (hence why my physio was so concerned all those years ago). They might look immaculate on Instagram, but that box-fresh appearance won’t last long in real life.

The biggest, most glaring issue, though? They’re Ugg by name and ugly by nature. I’m now too old and cynical to be duped into believing that these clodhoppers are remotely stylish: I can finally see that these are just shapeless mittens for the feet. And as for the ankle-grazing slippers, seemingly the Ugg style du jour? The stitching plus the rounded toes makes them all too reminiscent of hooves. If you’re starting to believe the hype, look back at your Facebook photos from the last time Uggs were famous (or, if you’re too young, ask a wise elder like me to show you the terrifying evidence).  Don’t say I didn’t warn you…