Yesterday I wrote about the ballet flats that Francesca convinced me to buy (whereupon she FAILED ME by telling me to buy a size too small…and then, annoyingly, reversed said fail by reminding me that I know how to stretch out leather shoes in a pinch, thereby simply expediting what happens to ballet flats anyway, which is why you should, in fact, buy them a touch too small).
And now I’m going to tell you about the shoes themselves, because they’re phenomenal.
Before we begin: I am not a ballet flat person. I feel like ballet flat people are sylphlike and graceful and Audrey Hepburn-ish, and I am none of those things. Whenever I try on ballet flats, I feel like I’m playing dress-up, and not in a good way; in a 37-year-old-wearing-my-daughter’s-clothing kind of way.
So let me tell you the crucial design element that makes French Sole ballet flats the most perfectest ballet flats on the planet, and that singlehandedly transformed me into a ballet flat person.
Toe cleavage.
I get that not everybody’s into toe cleavage. I personally love it, but regardless of where you fall on the hotly-debated issue of To Toe Cleavage Or Not To Toe Cleavage, the barely-there shape of these ballet flats elongates the foot and makes it look all delicate and slim…and also gives the shoes a little bit of a cool, rock ‘n’ roll vibe.
“A cool, rock ‘n’ roll vibe…from ballet flats?!” you say.
To which I say: Witness the grandmother of ballet flat coolness herself in action.
And there you go.
I own them in snakeskin, but they come in preeeetty much every color imaginable. Have at it.
