Somewhere in a tiny shoe factory in Italy, there sits one shoe. The mate of that shoe has been sitting on my desk for years as a reminder of how much I love my husband Sid… and how crazy he drives me.
I bought the shoes — both of them — on eBay many years ago. It is a black, heeled loafer style from Ferragamo that I think may have been from the late 50s… early 60s… 70s perhaps? Who knows? I am not a fashion historian. I want to call them classic, but having never seen anything quite like them again (and believe me, I have tried) — they cannot be deemed totally classic. They are timeless in a way that makes the wearer look almost… out of time. They are not feminine or masculine but somehow both at the same time. I am making no sense, but here is the backstory:
We were on one of our early Italy trips to visit our factories and find more. As is the way there... one person leads you to another — the shoe guys know where to make great belts, the sandal people tell you who makes the best ballerinas, and so on — and we found ourselves in this freezing cold factory. The smell in there was crazy… leather, glue, machinery oil. Sid was having the time of his life chatting away with old Giuseppe or whatever his name was telling him all the amazing things we could make. All I know is that when we left, Giuseppe was holding my left shoe and promising to recreate it. Yes, he had made shoes for the famous Ferragamo family, and yes, it was a wonderful last, and yes, we could make it again together. Promises. That is the language of the artisans in Italy. To be fair… many of them have kept those promises, and we work with wonderful partners there. But let me tell you. Those were hard-won and there have been many dead ends along the way. I did not have a great feeling about this. I should have grabbed the shoe back. But my husband Sid is so optimistic. Such a believer. So obsessed with working with the best. He will drive five hours down a dirt road to the tiny, no-name factory run by the true purists who may take 18 months to turn an order around. It may take forever, but it will be perfect. So he was wrapped up in the mutual admiration going on… two men excited to talk shoes and leather and detail and craft. I was just the girl who wanted to wear the shoes.
I am still the girl who wants to wear the shoe. More than ten years later, I finally can. It isn’t exactly the same, but it has the same spirit. This heeled loafer that is not masculine or feminine but both. It is a shoe that screams confidence. Heritage inspired without being tied to a decade. I love it. I can see Queen Elizabeth wearing this shoe (as both a teen and a 90-year-old). I can see Kate Moss wearing this shoe with worn-out jeans and a smoke in her hand. It is both cool and refined and that combination makes it fantastic.
So the original inspiration shoe sits in front of me at my desk. And behind me, pinned on the wall, is a tearsheet that I feel defines my style… or at least one aspect of it. (When you work in fashion, you can fall in love with many looks!) Sciascia Gambaccini, former fashion director of Italian Vogue, wears a simple sweater, slim flared pants, and a pair of the kind of timeless, perfectly proportioned heels I am writing about. You know them when you see them; it’s just that you don’t see them so often. (Or perhaps it’s that I don’t see them so often… which is why I had to go to Italy to make my own!) She looks amazing. Uncomplicated and confident.
These heeled loafers have been my white whale all these years… and this season’s kilt heel marks the end. We added the kilt and tassel as a trade-out for the Gucci-style bit on the originals. I will wear them with so many other things that we are excited to roll out… but it is only August and hot as the devil here in Atlanta, so I will tell you how I am wearing them right now: white jeans and a t-shirt. Blue jeans and a classic button-down. Sid and I can agree that loafers know no season or temperature so this is just what I need when I am sick to tears of sandals. In a month when it begins to cool down, I will wear them with black or denim Fayes with the trim Rosie cardigan… the ribbed Mackenzie sweater or Alisa crewneck just like that photo of Sciascia. A lot of people don't love brown shoes with all black… but I do. It softens it up a little. The taupe suede will give more of a contrast.
One last reason that you might need these, I promise. There is a quote that I love from J.R.R. Tolkien: “The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards.” Last year, we introduced this shoe in black. It had not even been on the floor for a week before two of my friends, Mary Margaret and Helen, both texted me separately to say how much they loved it. (You may remember — or not — because they sold out in a flash. I was mad that I missed out.) These are not friends I hear from often, but I think of them quite a bit. They are among my most stylish friends and embody so much of what I find attractive in women. It doesn’t hurt that both are 5-foot-10 and most things look fantastic on their frames… but the real quality I admire is that they wear their clothes so naturally. They inhabit them with real confidence. It is no surprise that both of them worked at Ralph Lauren (in fact, one still does!) because he was the master of spotting and recruiting cool, self-assured women to help build his world. Their seal of approval made me smile. I had received not one but two gold stars. You need these, I promise. Just ask Mary Margaret and Helen.
