This is a job for Azzedine Alaïa:
They’re Alaïa satin with pink croc heels. I was parading around in them at the Neiman’s outlet last weekend where they were having a ferocious sale and I had just about decided I couldn’t live without them when I rounded the end of a rack of shoes & nearly bumped into a darling friend who wrestled them out of my hands (once I’d taken them off) and insisted on treating me to them as an early birthday present. (Such treats, I assure you, I do not deserve.) The shoes are described as gunmetal gray, but they read as black. The toe is perfect exactly in-between round and pointed and thus will never go out of style. The ankle strap is also perfectly in the ankle strap sweet spot not so skinny it’s too dainty and not so wide it’s bondage-y. Very sexy, that ankle strap. I really think everything about these shoes is perfect and destined for immortality. An ankle strap d’Orsay pump can never be wrong. J’adore beaucoup ces chaussures. They’ve been living on my bedroom dresser since I got them because I want them to be out where I can see them instead of hidden away in the closet.
What’s telling about this description is its Goldilockean understanding: the toe and the ankle strap are not too this, not too that, but Just Right. (And it doesn’t hurt that the transaction price was well below the putative $1285 list.)
I am also intrigued by “…but they read as black.” We’ve all, I suspect, had experiences with garments that appeared to be one color in the store but looked ever-so-slightly different when included in an outfit, possibly due to proximity to other colors: you’d have to be wearing something very dark indeed for these shoes to register as grey.