The nude goatskin lining is the secret of this black Paris loafer. From the outside it is as sober as a black shoe gets, but the interior is the colour of bare skin, so nothing pale flashes at the edge when you sit down and nothing dark marks your feet when you take them off.
The structure: goatskin upper, a palladium-plated buckle at the vamp, a natural leather sole with a black rubber insert for grip, a natural leather heel, and a heel height of seven-tenths of an inch. The brown sole under the black upper is a small piece of colour that keeps the shoe from looking heavy.
I wear these through autumn and spring with wool trousers and ankle-skimming dresses, sockless until it is cold enough to care. Sizes run 36 to 41. They were also the pair I wore to a couple of long-haul flights, because loafers do not fight with aeroplane floors.
The honest trade-off is the leather. Black goatskin creases across the vamp noticeably in the first months, and the folds stay. Mine were folded within two weeks of steady wear; the shine of the leather and the buckle keep them from looking neglected, but a crease-free black loafer simply does not exist.
Looked after with cream at the heel and toes, the surface stays deep and the sole burnishes to a soft darkness with a honey edge where the natural leather shows through. Made in Italy. A loafer that hides its colour until it matters.







































