Natural calfskin has no coating to hide behind, which is either the appeal or the problem, depending on your temperament. On the Giulia, undyed leather over a black sole and a silver palladium buckle looks like something from a leather workshop, and I mean that as high praise.
The shape is this model’s flat one: under four-tenths of an inch of heel, a touch of forefoot drop, black leather sole and heel, natural goatskin through the insole and lining. Nothing about it tries to be more than a well-made sandal for walking.
Mine have been to markets, galleries and one memorable wedding that ended in a field. Sizes run 36 to 41. The goatskin lining on bare feet has stayed comfortable through everything, and the leather has done what natural leather does: taken on the exact map of my summer.
The honest note is exposure. Sun darkens the leather unevenly if you leave them out, water leaves edges, and scuffs on a pale surface are legible. A neutral cream, a dry cloth and a little patience are the whole maintenance list; the tan they gather is something you cannot buy.
Two seasons in, the colour has moved from oatmeal to a light caramel and the straps have moulded to the foot. Made in Italy. If you like objects that record their use, this is the sandal for you; I would buy them again without hesitating, and I rarely say that about pale shoes.



































