It came about by accident. Or, to be more precise, because of an accident. I had taken my goddaughter to one of my full-throttle yoga classes six weeks ago. I can’t pretend that I hadn’t enjoyed, just a little bit, cracking out crazy poses at 52 that she, at 19, couldn’t. I know. Terrible of me. So of course what happened next was written in the stars.
En route to our Sunday lunch afterwards, clad in my perennial flatform trainers, I twisted my ankle. Properly twisted my ankle, with a loud, excruciating crunch. Only after a few head-spinning minutes of agony was I able to hobble to the restaurant, and then I couldn’t do yoga for two weeks. So I certainly wasn’t going to go anywhere near those trainers again.
I had a look around for some replacements, and came to realise that I have wearied of trainers entirely. Partly it’s the ubiquity of them, and also the degree to which almost every brand seems to put you in a certain tribe. Even before Rishi Sunak’s #sambagate I never liked that. I am not a Salomon XT-6 hipster, or a Veja mum, or a billionaire Tory prime minister (for now) trying to make like he is one of us. But I couldn’t find a pair that was suitably invisible and not also utterly dull.
In truth, the seeds of sneaker-related doubt had been sown before then. I had already given up wearing them with mididresses, a combination that revolutionised the way many of us dressed a couple of decades ago but that now looks a tad tired.
So what would happen if I gave up on them altogether? I decided to find out, embarking on a trainerless life, only putting on a knackered old proper sports pair if I was exercising.
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Reader, I am loving it. It’s reminded me how dreary any kind of fashion default can make you, and what fun it is properly to shop your wardrobe or, in this case, your shoe cupboard. Why was I — such a shoe lover that as a child I would make miniature ones out of Plasticine — putting on the same footwear at least 70 per cent of the time? Partly, of course, because my trainers were comfortable, or at least they were until I fell off them. But I also wore them out of laziness; I didn’t have to think about what I put on my feet.
The key for me has been to identify the footwear I own that doesn’t sacrifice any of the ease and comfort, and to put each pair in a neat row at the bottom of my spare bed for ready access.
For me they have to be flat as well as, in an ideal world, attached to the foot. And what I have also pinpointed is that they need to have a certain aesthetic flexibility, so that they can, like trainers, be worn with lots of different outfits. When it comes to pairing them with a smarter ensemble — one of those aforementioned midis, or a suit — I also need them to add a certain edge rather than looking too classic which, on me, ends up appearing fusty.
The hands-down winners are my Ganni feminine buckle ballerinas, a style that was launched in 2021. “The modern twist of the buckle adds a hint of rebellion,” says Ditte Reffstrup, Ganni’s creative director, of a shoe that was, she adds, a “slow burn” at the beginning. It’s since proved so popular that it’s become part of the Danish brand’s Icons range, and is available in ten colours.
At £325 these represent an investment purchase, yet an investment is exactly what mine have proved to be, especially given that I went for go-with-anything snakeskin. My summer frocks look so much better with these than trainers ever did, but there’s no risk of me appearing too “lady”, as might be the case with conventional ballerinas, say, or kitten heels. A paler shade like my snakeskin, or white, or even tutu pink, will lighten your overall look in the same way that white trainers do, but come across as far more interesting.
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There are now countless more parsimoniously priced versions of similar. Mango’s square-toe buckled black ballet flat is £49.99 (mango.com), Cos’s more lozenge-shaped is £115 (cos.com). Raid’s in black or red patent is so heavily “inspired” as surely to be verging on illegal (£28, asos.com). Warning: I haven’t bought from this brand, and a price so low makes me worried, but it has plenty of positive reviews on Trustpilot. M&S Collection has a more delicate take in black patent or a mid-pink leather (£45, marksandspencer.com).
I also live in Essen’s foundation flats, another reinvention of the ballet pump known as the slipper shoe, which may not have a strap but stays on the foot perfectly (£199, essenthelabel.com). Everlane’s day glove ticks similar boxes (£132, everlane.com). Both come in some lovely light shades for summer. I like M&S Collection’s woven take too, in black, tan or stone (£45, marksandspencer.com).
My two end-of-the-bed pairs cover almost every kind of day for me, a city dweller, looking just as good with track pants — I am living in Baukjen’s flatteringly flat-fronted red pants with white side stripes (£99, baukjen.com), paired with a jacket, tailored or combat — as they do with black tie. Every time I wear them I get compliments, and several women I know have gone off to secure their own. Who needs trainers?
