Manolo says, the Manolo’s internet friend the Kate Finnigan has written the wonderful article about the hot shoe designer, the Rupert Sanderson. You must immediately go read the whole article, but for the Manolo the Shoeblogger, this is the best part of it.

Instead his energy has been devoted to refining his shoes. From the display shelf in the shop he grabs another Odette (all the shoes are named after varieties of daffodils from an ancient copy of the RHS Classified List of Daffodil Names bought at a car-boot sale and now lying on the table). ‘Four years ago I wouldn’t have been able to do this,’ he says, unable to hide his admiration for the craftsmanship of the simple, contemporary court shoe in his hand.

‘I’d have thought, “Where’s the money in that? Who’s gonna want to buy a pair of shoes that don’t have something tricksy about them?” In fact, the whole thing is to pare it down and work on the fit, the length and shape of the last. Rather than thinking you have to put something on it, you have to take something away. You use the foot as decoration. To my mind, sticking something on isn’t great shoe-making.’

Yes, shouts the Manolo!

Finally, the shoe designer who has come to understand that less can indeed be more.

This is what makes the Maestro Manolo Blahnik the genius that he is. He knows that what is most important is the line of the shoe, the shape and the ratios of the proportions, not the fancy-tacky geegaws which many designers pile onto their shoes.

Now we see that another designer has learned this eternal truth, that one should seek the idealized Platonic form, and eschew the gimcrackery of the tasteless ornamentation.

And what is the result of this desire? Beauty, truth. Truth, beauty.

Elegant in their simplicity, beautiful in their elegance. This is what the humble shoeblogger seeks in the shoes.