Distilling your closet into a capsule wardrobe can be very satisfying. This is largely what my Collection of One series is about. It’s also a bit of a high wire act. Because you have fewer, nicer things, each item is required to do a lot of work across occasions, categories and outfits. So if you’re buying the best quality you can afford, it’s distressing to get something wrong. You might have to make do with the error for a considerable amount of time (either to justify the price or because it can take that long to figure out how to iterate better within the category).
In building a capsule wardrobe, it’s also easy to get myopic: focusing intensely on the details of one particular piece (fabrics, lapels, stitching, whatever) to ensure you’re getting something that’s right for you in a particular category.1 It’s probably more important to take a step back occasionally and look at how everything is fitting together.
Enter the fall shoe triptych, or a fitting alternate title: How I Purchased the Same Color of Shoe Three Times Without Noticing. Each one of these shoes could support its own Collection of One feature, but I’ve grouped them here because I’ve started thinking about them as a kind of trio and a nice illustration of how I approach choices for the capsule. It’s also worth noting that the 4 pairs of predecessor shoes these all replaced were some of my oldest pairs of shoes. That I only finally donated the older pairs last week is a mystery to me. It took me 2 years to work up some combination of resolve and awareness to realize I no longer required back ups in these categories.
A Season for Suede
In Los Angeles, a suede shoe can be great for fall and winter (increasing precipitation and wetter subtropical climate zone creep notwithstanding).2 As I’m writing this in early October, it’s expected to reach 80 degrees today, so it’s not as though my warm weather items go into storage and cold weather gear takes its place in the closet. Breaking out certain fabrics and colors can be one of the only ways to observe the changing of the seasons here. So fall means suede shoes to me (it was especially amusing to source photos for some of these shoes from my archive to find many of the photos were taken in Octobers past; nice to know I’m capable of that kind of consistency).
In 2021, I upgraded or replaced 4 pairs of shoes with suede models: a pair of made to order desert boots from Anglo-Italian, a pair of bench made wingtips from Esquivel and a pair of ready to wear tassel loafers from Sid Mashburn. My detailed reasoning for acquiring these items to do work in their respective footwear categories is unimportant (and possibly only of interest to me), but it’s important to note they are all a very similar color. I got around to noticing this only very recently. Is this an error? Emphatically, yes. Is this a problem for the capsule? Let’s find out!
I. The Wingtips
When you think of dress shoes, you’re probably thinking of oxfords. They lace up and Nixon loved them. If you work around humorless capitalists, then you need a pair of these. In my entry level legal career, I relied on a pair of brown leather Cole Haan Air Madison wingtips to cover me in the office (and later, some Ferragamos I loved in a deeply impractical burnished tan). These wingtips served multiple tours of duty—I even proposed to my wife in them.3 As of print time, here’s a pair of these oxfords on sale for $35 on eBay (don’t worry about link erosion if you read this 2030, just run a mind search for [pre-collapse office drone shoes, 2009]). Ensuing exposure to Paul Smith and film and television studio executives eventually also gave me an unnatural love for oxfords executed in suede.
A suede wingtip can do a ton of work in certain kinds of wardrobes (if you’re adjacent to creative fields and if you’re more into earth tones than black like I tend to be). Paul Smith was mostly in my rearview (except for their trainers, which I still think can be excellent) by the time I set out to acquire them, so I first looked at Alden Long Wing Bluchers in Snuff Suede. Yes, these shoes are iconic enough to get the title case treatment. It’s a proper noun. This shoe photographs beautifully and I love the history of it, but I decided that might really be all there is to it. For one, it’s a lot of shoe (very chunky and sort of reddish in real life to boot). I also don’t like the Instagram #menswear vibes of the shoe. It’s an imprecise measure, but I decided to move on once I realized photos of people actually wearing this shoe in the wild are much rarer than posts of people on style forums selling their own “lightly worn” pairs. I’m also not stalking elk through a moor like the original wearers, so I don’t need my wingtips to be this functional/overbuilt.
The challenge of finding the best examples of the style is that they all tend to be clustered in Europe. I looked at Edward Green, Crockett and Jones, Church’s, Barker Black, and all the rest of the English heavies. These are all (i) expensive (some for good reason), (ii) have little-to-no ability to try them on for fit here in Los Angeles, and (iii) tend to be limited to a handful of darker, conservative colors, even when you can find them in suede. I came to my senses while trading emails with one seller about their fit. Why not find something with a comparably high level of make that I can try on in real-life? Even better, why not see if there is someone based in Los Angeles and making shoes on this level? Then I rediscovered George Esquivel.
I think I first read about George Esquivel’s work in an in-flight magazine in the mid-2000s (?). I badly want to find the source material to confirm, but I think it just had a little blurb/spotlight about Esquivel making… mint green shoes for rock and roll types? Again, would be great to track this down. At the time, I remember thinking how out-of-reach the concept of made to order anything was to me. These were exotic shoes for celebrities. To rediscover/reevaluate Esquivel in 2021 was a rare treat. I was initially trying to replace a pair of my wife’s much loved/also destroyed ankle boots from, of all places, Target (we can sometimes have opposite philosophies about value in that way). So my interest in Esquivel started with women’s boots (and Jess now has 2 pairs from Esquivel), but the Vanas wingtip oxfords quickly captured my attention. Here I am trying to guess my size before having shoes mailed to me across the Atlantic, when there’s a craftsman providing bench made shoes 25 minutes from my house. 4
Working with George on these was a delight. At the time he had a beautiful atelier in downtown Los Angeles (you can find plenty of photos of the space online, but I think he may have moved since then) and we ran through all of the leathers, finishes and other options (soles, laces, etc.). Equally important, George has created his own lasts, so in-person try on is essential to ensure you know your sizing in his world. We settled on a Vanas wingtip in Walnut suede with some hand finishing (I reached out to them for this article to try to get all of those details in hand and will update if I get them, but I think these were oiled slightly to create the finish). I ordered them October 21, 2021 and they were ready at the end of December (good communication throughout from his wife Shelley, with most of the delay owing to getting the leather imported). Prices have gone up recently, but if you get on the mailing list there are sometimes sales on ready to wear or a good percentage off made to order for holidays. I’ve included a nice of Esquivel’s video below highlighting some of tools and steps involved in the process of making shoes by hand.
A lot of things to love about these shoes, but the flower medallion on the toe is a personal favorite and not something I’ve seen elsewhere. The cotton laces are also unexpectedly good—it says you aren’t taking yourself too seriously and helps these work with more casual looks. You can also have Esquivel add art/tattoos to the shoes to personalize them. I haven’t done this yet, but would like to go back and have that done at some point.
I feel a special connection to George as someone who is local to Southern California and wants to go through the trouble of making things here (and sure, part of the charm/connection is intentional because at the end of the day he is selling you something, but you’d be surprised how often being pleasant/having personal skills is not a prerequisite to being a craftsman in a client-facing business). It also won’t surprise you to hear that George is incredibly passionate about this craft—you have to be if you’re going to make things this way. He’s very much someone I’d love to interview for this publication, the second I have the readership to justify it.
II. The Desert Boots
Unlike the wingtips, I did commit to MTO shoes being sent over the Atlantic with a best guess about size/fit (after email consultation) for my Anglo-Italian desert boots. These were commissioned to replace my much loved J. Crew McAlister boots, which were being destroyed by my lifestyle choices. I believe J. Crew launched these in 2009 and I acquired a pair a few years after that. At some point I decided desert boots were acceptable to wear while camping. This is an aesthetic exuberance. The crepe sole captures and holds a ton of dirt and is prone to melting on the edge of fire pit rings before you realize what you’ve done. I still don’t necessarily recant my position that these are a great way to bring some elegance to otherwise outdoorsy activities (I also wore them for my one and probably only time accompanying a friend in the Gambler 500). I think the origins of the desert boot also inform/support this interpretation.
In looking to upgrade the J. Crew desert boots, I wanted a refreshed pair with a crepe sole (preferably non-melted/-destroyed) and slightly higher end make (e.g., something not mass produced). I also knew very little about boots at that time, so I had to conduct a wide-ranging survey of the field. Clarks, Astorflex, Todd Snyder, Drakes, Santoni, Carmina and finally/insanely, Brunello Cucinelli were all investigated. In June, 2021, I became aware of Anglo-Italian’s new made to order program for their desert boots. By September, I was emailing to inquire about sizing and to try to choose between 2 colors of suede: Antilope and Putty Grey. I went with the latter on their #2 Crepe Sole.
I ordered and received these in October, 2021 (probably after the trip pictured above where the other boots look just about finished). The design is exceptional and brings a lot of dressy energy to what is normally a very casual shoe. I think it increases the versatility of the shoe nicely. Here’s Anglo-Italian on the design:
Our Desert Boot is the Anglo-Italian take on a classic design. A natural pairing our range of denim, chinos and casual suits. Our last features a shorter height to prevent tailored trousers from catching, reduced toe spring, a low toe profile and a round yet contemporary shape.
Produced in the heartland of Italian shoemaking - harnessing the intrinsic softness of Italian construction and finesse in the finishing. Able to be worn year round. Now offered as a made-to-order product - you are able to select your size, material and sole. Delivery takes approximately 5 weeks.
These shoes are beautiful and very suitable for elevated casual looks, but are probably too fine for camping/outdoor use. Camping in boots is better left to a harder wearing pull on boot anyway (RM Williams Gardner boots were having a renaissance, but I have a pair of pull-ons with lugged outsoles from Thursday to cover outdoor uses, including light snow and ice). The only issue is that sizing on these could be better—I was advised to take my normal size in light of the low profile toe box and there’s some extra room up there. It’s not a disaster as these are to be worn with socks, so anything other than the thinnest dress sock will reduce the extra room. Something I’d probably look at replacing in 5-10 years, but would choose Anglo-Italian again for these.
III. The Easy Loafer
The Sid Mashburn tassel loafers in Cigar suede replaced a pair of distressed, black Allen Edmonds tassel loafers and a pair of chocolate brown suede Ferrgamos with subtle lug outsoles. I also mistakenly thought I bought this pair last/after the wingtips and the desert boots, but this was actually the first of the trio that I acquired (order placed in January, 2021).
This was the most needed upgrade among the 3 pairs (the chocolate suede Ferragamos, an eBay acquisition, ended up warped by the encroaching tide in Big Sur, and apologies in retrospect to our wedding photographer who was willing to execute those engagement photos—I swear he was already traveling in the area). The Allen Edmonds tassel loafers just disintegrated in time. My friend’s dad got rid of these in 2007 and they came to me (hand-me-downs from my grandfather and father are 1/2-1 sizes too small for me, so I distinctly remember losing a lot of good shoes due to fit around this time and these would have been a welcome replacement). Eventually they could no longer be polished to any respectable level and I’d wear them maybe once a year as my own version of Alison Bornstein’s wrong shoe theory or when I needed something black (so almost never).
The Sid Mashburn upgrade is thoroughly great, if less interesting than the desert boots and wingtips. No great saga of designing or choosing the details here—these were just ready to wear and ordered straight from Sid Mashburn. Like a lot of SM’s stuff, these are expensive, but they have the design chops, materials and make to back up the price point (I’m less enchanted by the piling on their cashmere and the mysterious (un)button stance on their polos, but everything else I have from them truly holds up). These are leather lined with a Goodyear welt. They also make a “Nassau” version of this loafer that I love the idea of—they are unlined for warmer weather, but I think the Goodyear welt is the way to go with these (keeping resole-ability in play to help drive down the cost per wear price).
On versatility, I think SM sums it up nicely. I’ve yet to make this work with jeans, but it’s obviously an attainable stretch goal:
Our tassel loafers are handmade at a tiny family-run factory in Italy, and they were a long time in the making to get just the right kind of flop on the tassel (not too slick, not too loose). In suede, they're a little more casual than the smooth leather versions. Of course, they're still great with a suit, but we also like them with a pair of jeans for weekend knocking around. They're easy to wear, too — just slip them on and go. (Socks optional.)
Why tassels? G. Bruce Boyer writing for Cigar Aficionado in 1998 can probably explain that part best (highlighting a connection to both Alden and canoe shoes I don’t think I knew before). As for the history of the shoe, it’s a nice reminder that iterating relentlessly on a design can sometimes produce something new and enduring.
Triples Makes it Safe
Anywhere else, the fact that all of these shoes are in an earthy suede would mark them as all having similar levels of casualness (and being three of the same shoe, role-wise). In a Californian/more laidback wardrobe (this place is terminally casual - neckties are a provocation and a sport coat is only just tolerated), I’d argue they are all achieving different levels of formality (desert boots being the most casual, but also going with the most outfits and being at the top of the casual spectrum given their sharpness), followed by the wingtips (straight down the middle between dress and casual) and then the tassel loafers, which have the nattiest connotations (which can lead to them being misread by the layperson as the most formal). A few more ways to slice this trio: (i) two made to order shoes, one ready to wear; (ii) two lace ups, one slip on; (iii) two foreign and one domestic maker; or (iv) 3 shoes that can all be worn as business casual, with very different connotations owing to their design origins (military in the case of the desert boot, country/sporting [in the older sense of the term] for the brogued wingtip, and ivy/academic for the loafers).
On balance, the color similarities among the three aren’t fatal for the capsule project, but there’s definitely a moratorium on suede (and shoes in general). Maybe I’m delusional and have succeeded in convincing only myself here, but in my view they all hang nicely together, like any good triptych should.
It’s sufficient to say my criteria for finding and settling on one item within a respective category always involves evaluating an iconic piece and trying to grapple with it on my own terms. “Iconic” is a slippery word and deserves some unpacking. Here are some things every capsule piece will have in common: (i) longevity in design (a design has to be around long enough for many different makers and wearers to iterate on and put their spin on it, also be properly wary of newness and the untested); (ii) considerable and discoverable history (who made it originally and why? how does its origin inform its function and design language today?); (iii) appreciable craft in construction (if it’s useful/interesting enough to still be made today, who is making it at higher levels and what role does tradition, respect for materials and specialized knowledge play in that process?).
I’m aware that other cities/places look at suede as properly assigned to summer, or when you can be sure it will be dry enough to step out in suede. For me, the warmer seasons are no laces season (Belgians, Sabahs, huaraches, driving moccasins, espadrilles and every other variant in the loafer animal kingdom).
This didn’t stop me from getting rid of these shoes. I’m more sentimental about other items from our relationship, like the repp striped necktie from Primark I wore to our first date at the Tate Modern.
I know “bench made” is subject to some scrutiny/difference of opinion, but Esquivel developed his own lasts in house, and all of the shoes parts are cut, assembled, sewn and finished by hand. Made to order, while technically true (these aren’t bespoke given my opting for a premade last), feels like something of an understatement for these.