My new old Bally slip-ons

New-old Ballys 01

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.)

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If they fit me then, I would have sneaked them out of his closet often.

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It must have been one decade since.

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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.

New-old Ballys 05

How cool is this?

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Now, after being rescued from a flooded house, they fit snuggly on my notoriously small feet.

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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)

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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.

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These are perfect for chinos, in shorts or trousers, and other neutral-colored pants. Light green too, of course (fatigues, moss, olive, etc).

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With the shoes came this reddish-colored shelf, which has done much to solve my room space problems.

New-old Ballys 09

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