Sky blue suede sounds like a holiday shoe, and the first summer it was exactly that: ferry decks, whitewashed lanes, a linen shirt and these. The surprise came later, when the sandals also worked at home with grey denim, because suede mutes this blue into something closer to stone.
The build is the standard Chypre: suede goatskin upper, a strap that adjusts across the instep, anatomical rubber sole that rolls up under the arch, black calfskin insole and black lambskin lining. It sits low, about half an inch off the ground, so it disappears on the foot rather than announcing itself.
Goatskin suede has a tight, fine nap, and pale blue is the sort of shade that shows every mark when the leather is thin. This one is dense enough that a brush lifts most dust instead of working it deeper into the surface.
The trade-off is water. Salt spray in particular leaves tide lines that no brush removes, so mine now stay away from the sea; I spray them before summer and still check the forecast. Rain on suede is a blotting job, never a rubbing one.
Worn steadily, the suede lies flatter where the strap crosses the foot and the blue softens toward powder, a change I like more with each summer. The six sizes, 36 through 41, come from a workshop in Italy. If you want a cool-toned sandal that is not precious about being one, start here.



































