I was wandering through a retail store, abundant with fringes, sunglasses and beach bags, when I stumbled upon something somewhat unexpected: shoe clips.
Upon a quick Google search (after a week spent far away from my laptop), I understood that there was a tendency to embellish elegant pumps – suede, lacquer, satin – with all sorts of diamond or feather brooches (just for weddings, hopefully). But the ones above were clearly meant to be worn with sneakers. I’m not confused by the combination of dressy and sport – God knows, designers like Chanel and Dior have proposed couture sport shoes before – but I can’t help but wonder what direction are we going for, style-wise with such pairs.
The minimalist current coming from the streets of Paris and New York is met with pop of colors, unexpected patterns and layers in London and Rome – it’s always been like this. That said, the feeling sent by designers in the last couple of years was of ease, comfort and more importantly, a sense that a uniform is not just a norm, but actually chic.
You can ask whatever fashion authority you want – it will say that a stylish person will veer in one direction at some point in their life (usually in their 30s), choosing a sort of uniform for themselves. In their closet, you’ll either see greys, whites and neutrals (in a Garance Dore sort of way), midi skirts and dresses with plenty of breton stripes (a la Emily Schuman) or plenty of blazers and deconstructed shirts as Leandra Medine likes to mix.
So where do cartoony, teenageresque shoe clips fit in?! To me, they seem to take away from the beauty of a crisp Stan Smith sneaker or a legendary Converse shoe. If you mix them with an equally overly-pinned denim jacket (there’s no lack of options there! meh.) you’ll definitely get a 90s pop band vibe. And that, guys, is the opposite of finding a uniform, since you can’t go looking like a popped bag of confetti every day.
Moreover, I think the more accessories we add, the more we lose of ourselves – our beauty, body and attitude. Letting objects speak for us, instead of creating an extension of us, is losing the fashion statement we tried to make in the first place.
Are we so obsessed on shopping and covering ourselves in “art” that we lost the mere fact that every individual is in a way, a work of art? That we don’t have to tell stories with objects when we can do it with gestures, smiles, flushed cheeks and trembling fingers?