The Allbirds AI pivot is a fugazi. š Plus Altman vs Musk gets personal, and the latest brand news.
Issue 87 ā Saturday, May 2, 2026
9:29 a.m. on Wednesday, April 15, 2026. The Linux servers of the NASDAQ blink to life. Allbirds, Inc opens with a market capitalisation of just $21.7 million.
Itās a plot twist for the makers of those weirdly comfortable merino sneakers. Four and a half years earlier, the footwear company rang the bell at $4.1 billion.
Maths even I can do:
4,100,000,000 - 21,700,000 = 4,078,300,000. 4 years, 5 months = 1,624 days
Thatās two and a half million dollars lost, every, single, day since going public.
But that Wednesday, those NASDAQ servers are fired up for one final twist in the tale. A fugazi, as Mark Hanna calls it in The Wolf of Wall Street.
Allbirds, Inc. Announces Expansion into AI Compute Infrastructure.
Obviously.
Why wouldnāt a defunct woolly shoe company become an AI-native cloud solutions provider? I mean, the company is barely worth a fifth of what Meta will pay one AI hire this year.
But it works. NASDAQ:BIRD pops, a 582% gain in a single day, squeezing to $159 million in market cap, more than the companyās entire 2025 revenues.
Weāre a long way from Allbirdsā dream to be the sustainable alternative to Nike.
And if you were hoping for a Shoe Dog-style ending, this is not it.
Weāre in a horror movie bloodbath: A brand built with fast venture money fails, and gets taken apart by flesh-eating retail investors.
And yet.
There was a time we believed sustainable alternatives were going to change the world.
Oatly, Beyond Meat, BrewDog, Honest Co.
Back then, Allbirds looked well placed to win.
Tim Brown co-founded it, a former New Zealand footballer whoād grown up around more sheep than people. Heād watched the wool industry shrink as synthetics took over.
Brown: We founded Allbirds to help nature make a comeback.
The Wool Runner was a breakthrough. Worn without socks was its thing, at one with nature ā but not in a Goop vagina candle kind of way ā in a competent, āIāve got a board meetingā kind of way.
Fact: The Wool Runner was made from the same moisture-wicking fibres NASA uses in spacesuits, meaning Allbirds had the cosiness of a slipper with the performance of a trainer.
Time Magazine called them The worldās most comfortable shoe.
Fashion, or lack of, did the rest.
Orthopaedic lines, and no logos, made them the perfect choice for a straight-leg chino, a white oxford, and a Patagonia fleece ā the Silicon Valley uniform.
Itās 2018, and this is the peak of woke brands. Larry Fink, six trillion in assets under management, writes an open letter instructing CEOs to find a sense of purpose, a societal good. Colin Kaepernick has just appeared in a Nike ad.
Allbirds is seen as ultra-progressive:
I have money, I have power, but Iām uncomfortable about both.
Rich, but not an asshole.
Soon, the Wool Runner was papped on the feet of Barack Obama, Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben Horowitz, Larry Page, and Tim Cook.
I owned three pairs myself.
My son and I are at Mumās. Heās seven. Sheās seventy.
A long sheet of brown paper is unrolled across kitchen tiles, with four letters in crayon and marker. N-O-N-A.
The first N is a man fishing from a boat. The O is a face, round with a triangle nose and a red tongue. The next N has a rocket on top. The A has wings, with a big Transformers robot standing next to it. Nona Prime.
My son has made a sign for her new bed downstairs.
Itās a lovely moment, but Iām annoyed: Iāve just unboxed my Wool Runners, white, and a dot of red marker has ended up on the lace. The box arrived at Christmas, with a sheep on the lid. Christmas was two months ago. I havenāt been to see Mum, so Iāve only just put them on and theyāre stained already.
Outside, sat at the round wicker table on the stone terrace, Mumās in her dressing gown. She has taken up smoking again with total joy. Nothing to lose, renal cell carcinoma is at final stage now.
I go out to sit with her. āShoes look nice, son.ā
Weāre talking about a few things. Iām following just enough to notice her tone shift. She mumbles: āItās a shame really, as thereās things left Iād like to have done.ā
Iām checking the stain. I donāt want to be there too much longer. Mums can be a drain.
The news in the background is talking about a novel coronavirus. Itās the week before lockdown, but we donāt know that yet.
There were 483 days of lockdowns. The skies emptied of planes and the birds came back. Long walks at lunch, and we were wearing soft clothes, comfortable shoes, allā¦theā¦time.
In these unprecedented times, we were grateful that the planet had been given a second chance.
By every measure, this should have been Allbirdsā moment.
But it wasnāt.
Allbirdsā growth rate halved, and net losses doubled.
Going to the office had died and the work uniform with it. No white oxford, no Patagonia fleece, no Allbirds, becauseā¦nowhere to wear them.
Socially distanced: Weād been alone with our screens for over a year. We came out parasocially bonded to TikTok creators and podcast hosts, not to our neighbours.
During that time, there was little else to do but go shopping online. Now, with 9% inflation, there was no spare change for that third pair of trainers.
The biggest transformation of all was Silicon Valley. It had grown tired of being apologetic and being seen to do the right thing. So had America. And a new technology was emerging, the starter gun for a new era of objectivism.
Being an asshole was back.
Grey hoodies became gold chains and Greubel Forseys. Lean In became cage fights. White House dinners. Trillion-dollar pay packages, and dictator salutes in front of the cameras. And data centres burning up the planet, promising weāre all going to be obsolete anyway.
Even Tim Cook, the most unassuming billionaire in Palo Alto, the guy youād expect to retire in Allbirds.
He was last seen in $1,500 Tom Sachs x Nike Mars Yards.
As for being the sustainable alternative to Nike? Not worth thinking about. Not a chance. Nike is 330x the size of Allbirds and, post-pandemic, has enough problems of its own.
Letās face it, the dream of a consumer brand world powered by Mother Nature was never going to work. You canāt consume your way back to her.
Still.
When I heard about the Allbirds AI pivot, I could see it immediately.
A neatly designed server rack in a minimalist natural wood frame with wool-felt panels muffling the hum, a small embossed sheep in one corner, the whole thing powered by South Island hydro and cooled by the winds of WÄnaka, running smaller open-source models tuned for climate sims and soil sensors.
It was kind of beautiful.
But, also a fugazi. A whazi, a whoozi.
Just another venture-backed brand that should never have IPOād. Allbirds dies because markets do what markets do, culture shifts when culture shifts, tech is always about to eat everyone.
But in the case of Allbirds, itās something else too.
Itās a mirror to what happened before, during, and after those 483 days, and that mirror tells you exactly what you donāt want to hear:
The change was supposed to be us. We were going to come out of it all different, kinder, and more careful.
And we didnāt.
The shoe cupboard needs clearing out. Behind a row of boots, squashed against the back wall, I meet those white Wool Runners again. One curled. The other with all its shape gone.
They smell awful. Too many sockless wears.
I turn one over to check, even though I know whatās there. The red marker on the lace. I hold the lace in my hand and run my thumb across the red dot, feel the threads, and like a button being pressed it plays the whole day back.
My little boy, no longer little, drawing Transformers on brown paper to cheer Nona on.
And I see Mum out on the terrace, turned away, her back to me. Sheās wearing her dressing gown. Sitting at the wicker table, smoking joyously, looking up at the evergreens.
Then sheās gone.
You see, that turned out to be our last amazing day together.
And I wasnāt there.
The colour drained out of every picture after that and the indignities followed one after the other, after the other, until a sad ending.
I decide to put the shoes by the black bag for the dump.
Some time later, I move them.
Some time after that, I move them back. They were that guy, checking the stains. They can go.
I figure today might be one of those last good days and Iād best be in it.
for Nona Prime ā”
Letās rise together with every issue.
Market Moves
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How Elon Musk used SpaceX to benefit himself and his other businesses | The New York Times
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Happiness
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How to measure whether AI is actually boosting your productivity | Fast Company
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