You know that saying? When you're onto a good thing... Well, this is a good thing. This might, in fact, be the best thing. I'm a self-professed sandal-wearing acolyte, a sandal-phile, if you will. This love affair goes back a long time, such a very long time. I remember the first pair of sandals I owned, candy-coloured, glitter-flecked jelly numbers (wasn't everyone's?), the perfect accompaniment for overalls and crayola-hued jimboree skivvies and that permanent state of all children that can only be described as 'sticky-fingered'. Sandals are the national footwear of Australia, and we wear them well. We graduate from those jelly sandals to comfortable, sensible Clarks numbers (often embellished with butterflies and the like). Aged 12 or thereabouts we move onto Havaianas, and those rubbery, unpretentious, completely unforced slips-of-a-thing serve us just fine thank-you-very-much until about eighteen or so when the need for proper sandals takes over. For me it was a pair of Gladiator Sandals a la Ashley Olsen (always Ashley Olsen), the perfect pair for my upcoming trip to Byron Bay. Those sandals were the thing; that summer they never left my feet, they were there for my eighteenth birthday, for high-school graduation, for the many trips to the beach, for new year's eve on a boat moored in the harbour at Rushcutter's bay drinking lukewarm Bacardi Breezers (even though my mother told me not to wear sandals on a boat, that I would cut my feet on glass, I wore them anyway with the hot, forceful defiance of 18). They only got taken off when they were literally falling apart at the seams, straps of leather flying away everytime I took a step on those hot Paddington pavements.
The years passed and so did the sandals. The thing about them is that they don't last, especially not when you wear them with the rigour and regularity that I do (I am famous for sandals in winter, again, a la ashley). The soles wear out, the straps give way, the buckles start to bend. I am also famous for wearing sandals until they are on their very last legs, holes and all. It's awful, I know. But when you're onto a good thing you're never quite ready to give up. Thick wide red straps, criss-crossed tan numbers, navy blue suede minimalism. K.Jacques, A.P.C, Rondini... I have known them all already, known them all. I have measured out my life in the little scraps of leather that have adorned my feet, paired with midi skirts and big tee shirts (my first pair of k jacques), with bretons and cigarette pants, with shearling coats and tapered trousers. They're the permanent staple of my wardrobe, even more so than COS or Isabel, even more so than big sweaters and long skirts and cropped pants, even more so than breton tops and button down shirts. They're the ones that have been there from the start. They'll be there at the end, too.
Not all sandals are made equal, however. There's one style that I've loved more than others. The simplicity of one toe strap, one ankle strap, first found on my beloved pair of k jacques, the collection has since been expanded to include these ones. This is the good thing, the best thing. Easy and simple, as all good things, best things are. The only full stop that I could add to my style, dressed up or down (though I rarely dress up, it's nice that in some respects these styles can cross those porous boundaries), completely and utterly chic. I was dubious the first time I bought flat, strappy sandals like these. They seemed like they would be uncomfortable and unflattering on wide feet. They looked like they might be unwieldy. They had an air of the feminine about them, when at the time what I wanted in sandals was thick-soled, thick-strapped sturdiness. How wrong I was. The minute I strapped that first pair onto my feet I knew. And isn't that what people say when they've found the one?
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p.s I'm in Hong Kong! I'm here doing some work for university, seeing family and wearing sandals. Follow my instagram (@hannahroserose) for more frequent updates x
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