I remember this pair from years and years ago. It was my brother's, but he didn't really know how to love shoes. (I know I just wrote about shoes, but I couldn't help it.)
If they fit me then, I would have sneaked them out of his closet often.
It must have been one decade since.
Now I see them again, in very good condition: the soles barely weathered and only one small tear on the woven leather and hemp detailing.
How cool is this?
Now, after being rescued from a flooded house, they fit snuggly on my notoriously small feet.
Oh, by the way, the pair's color combination reminds me of these bracelets I got from Divisoria (far right), piled neatly beside by bookmarks, pens, and pencils (far left); and my other wrist accessories (center)
Once I confirmed that the pair finally fit, seeing them on, I felt like skipping, even tap-dancing, so I could click back the years when I would wait for special occasions just so I could hear myself tap-tap-tapping my wooden soles on marble and parquet.
These are perfect for chinos, in shorts or trousers, and other neutral-colored pants. Light green too, of course (fatigues, moss, olive, etc).
With the shoes came this reddish-colored shelf, which has done much to solve my room space problems.
And speaking of memories, here are some more fit neatly into glass.
From left: candies from a glassblower's shop in Murano, my small coin collection (do you know why the exterior of the jar feels sticky?), white shells collected from various beaches