An all-black sandal lives or dies by texture, and this Chypre is suede from strap to sole line: no shine, no contrast, just one soft black surface that reads as depth rather than absence.
The rest is familiar. Goatskin suede upper, a strap that adjusts over the instep, black rubber sole with an anatomical curve, and a black calfskin footbed over a noir goatskin lining that matches the outside. Sole height is half an inch, so it also packs almost flat in a suitcase.
I wear black suede sandals with everything from tailored shorts to a long black dress, and this pair works because suede refuses to look formal even when the colour does. At a dinner where everyone else wore straps and shine, mine just looked comfortable, and they were. In June they were the only shoes I needed for two weeks of work and dinners.
The honest caveat: black suede polishes itself in the wrong places. Rubbing at the strap and along the inner edge turns the nap shiny, and once it shines, only patient brushing brings the matte back. Store them stuffed, not crushed, and let them air between wears.
Kept that way, the surface stays uniformly matte and the black holds its depth instead of fading grey, exactly as my older pairs prove. Made in Italy; sizes run 36 through 41. For a sandal that goes under everything, this is the one I pack first.



































