The Untold (and Slightly Rebellious) History of Shoelaces

Shoelaces. Simple, harmless, overlooked. Or so they’d have you believe.

The official story is neat: humans have been tying things to their feet for thousands of years. The oldest known shoelaces were found on Ötzi the Iceman — a 5,000-year-old mummy discovered in the Alps — made from strips of plant fibre threaded through leather. Very practical for crossing mountains without losing your boots.

But think about it… someone, somewhere, decided we all needed to tie our shoes in a particular way. Not buckle them, not glue them, not some clever sliding mechanism. Tying them. And that method spread across continents, cultures, and empires. Why? Because it works? Sure. But maybe also because it’s a little ritual of compliance built into your morning routine.

Fast-forward to the Roman Empire: soldiers wore caligae — sandals laced up the shin. Useful, yes, but also a visual uniform, ensuring the army moved as one, looked as one, and — crucially — could be inspected in seconds for “incorrect” fastening. Footwear became a tool for identifying loyalty and discipline.

In medieval Europe, laces were often colourful ribbons — a status symbol for those who could afford more than plain leather. But sumptuary laws (government rules on what you could and couldn’t wear) meant the “wrong” colour or fabric could get you fined or worse. Even your laces weren’t truly yours.

By the 19th century, with industrialisation in full swing, eyelets became standard. Machines could stamp them out quickly, ensuring shoelaces fit into a system of mass-produced, interchangeable shoes. Efficient for commerce, yes… but also a step towards the uniformity we still live with today.

And in the modern era? Well, shoelaces are still everywhere. From school shoes to military boots, we’ve made peace with this daily knot-tying ritual. But we also live in a time when dress codes still police how we tie them, what colour they can be, and — in some workplaces — whether they’re acceptable at all.

So next time you lace up, take a moment. You’re not just keeping your shoes on — you’re participating in a 5,000-year-old tradition that blends necessity, identity, and just a dash of control.
And maybe, just maybe… leaving them untied once in a while is the smallest act of rebellion you can get away with.