Alright, Francesca. Hand over the shoes.
…Anytime. Really.
When you have a friend who is Italian and is always running off to Italy to see her Italian relatives, you get to hear stories like this: “So I found these gorgeous Prada platforms that I really liked but they were a fortune, and then I was in this little boutique in Italy and stumbled across a man forging handmade shoes from ancient wooden shipwrecks and linen woven by nuns, and he made me a pair exactly like the Prada ones I’d been wanting except they cost three dollars, and then he fed me prosciutto and sparkling rose in the sunbaked piazza and we fell in love.”
That’s what her stories sound like to me, anyway.
And it is a fact: she did come home from Italy with the shoes of my dreams, handmade at some little boutique that neither you nor I will ever be able to get to, which is pretty sad. But I put a widget down there at the bottom of this post with some similar-ish selections to lessen the blow.
God they’re good.
