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Usher Threw A Repetto At Me

  • Rachel Hodin
  • Nov 18, 2024
  • 5 min read

Updated: Nov 24, 2024

Welcome to Wear Mail by Rachel Hodin. Home to spectacular, shoppable finds—fed to you in tasty, bite-sized edits that'll inspire you creatively, generate lols, and are specifically designed to tickle all. Read Rachel's vintage shopping thoughts here or subscribe on Substack.


Backstage at Sandy Liang's Spring 2023 show


A friend of mine who once worked at Vogue told me that, during downtime at the office, her co-workers would stand up and do ballet stretches, oftentimes using her cubicle wall as a makeshift barre. I imagined them standing with their side to her cubicle, one hand holding the top of the divider and the other outstretched, thighs turned outward from the hips as they grand pliéd into relevé, transitioned from tendu to jeté, and so on and so forth.

I don’t think this is a coincidence. With over 10 years of experience working in fashion, I do believe I can say with authority and near certainty that there is a correlation between flexibility—as in, the immense physical pliability that comes with being a ballerina—and success in the industry.


Generally speaking, fashion has always had a weakness for ballet and ballerinas. Think of the number of designers who have created costumes for the ballet. Think of Yves Saint Laurent’s 1976 “Opéras - Ballet Russes” collection, the many costumes Gianni Versace created for the ballet and opera, and the countless collections that have drawn inspiration from the ballet.


(Clockwise from left): Gianni Versace's 1987 Matrioska dress for the "Souvenir de Leningrad" ballet made of hand-painted silk shantung with embroideries and appliqués. The invite for John Galliano's SS96 "Ecole de Danse" collection. And three looks from Galliano SS96.


But there’s something about “former ballerina” on the resumé that seems to just effortlessly open doors in the industry—and to One World Trade. I call it the ballet-Condé pipeline: the greater the turnout, the less frequent the turnover.


And the mascot of this movement is unequivocally the ballet flat.


As an emblem of ballet—which Center Stage taught me is an elite form of dance—and the perennially chic French girls that helped usher them into popularity, ballet flats have always (for me at least) exuded an air of exclusivity. And perhaps this is me projecting; after all, to pull off ballet flats one must possess a swan-like grace, natural poise, and loose hamstrings—all traits that I am biologically incompatible with (see: the “Rachel shuffle” from “It’s Open Kimono Time” and that time I gave myself mild scoliosis). But the rise of French powerhouse Repetto—whose exorbitantly priced ballet flats during my teens and early 20s became the only acceptable iteration in the industry—certainly didn’t do much to democratize the ballet flat.


Never mind that Repettos are physically detrimental—to the plantar fascia, Achilles heel, and back among other areas. Never mind that Usher threw one at me! (Ok it was more like an underhand toss—and happened when I was working as a retail associate—but it caught me off guard and I still maintain that it’s not a nice way to ask for a pair of shoes in your girlfriend’s size). The ballet flat was a status symbol.


When, around 2012, the ballet flat finally started losing its cachet, it was a huge win for the physically rigid. And for a while, all seemed swell, with lug soles as far as the eye could see. But then, the fall. Or rather “Why the Ballet Flat Is Perfect for Fall,” as Vogue put it around late 2021. A sentiment that was endorsed soon after by just about every fashion publication worth its salt. “Balletcore” all but confirmed the trend’s resurgence, but it was arguably Miu Miu’s FW’22 collection that sealed the deal.



I thought I remembered Chloë Sevigny, during her press tour for Feud, proclaim something to the effect of lug soles and clodhoppers no longer being “it.” But when I tried to find the source, I couldn’t. She did, however, say in a Vogue video that (her stylist) Haley Wollens always prefers a dainty pointed shoe—and that was more than enough to convince me.


So against my baser instincts, I relented. I bought those ubiquitous Mary Jane-style ballet flats from The Row and—what’s more!—I even sold my Marc Jacobs Ruth platforms so that I could afford them.

I may come to regret that latter move, but for now I’m enjoying the sense of grace these flats afford.

So in the spirit of resisting my urge to lug, here are some dainty, clean, and ballet-style flats that I’ve been coveting as of late—nearly all second hand and in great condition.


1. The Row suede loafers, sz 40.5, $275; 2. Jil Sander ankle ring flats, sz 7, $523 (and in other colors for $287$356$362$689$406 pink and v cute); 3. The Row dark brown ballet flats, sz 5.5/6, $725 (another in matte navy for $650); 4. Jil Sander leather mules, sz EU 36, $305; 5. Céline Phoebe era embellished heels, sz 7.5, $535.90 (another plain version in orange for $287.21; 6. Lemaire brown calf hair loafers, sz 6, $212.05; 7. Jil Sander leather flats, sz. 8, $350 (another for $238); 8. Loewe leather flats, sz EU 38, $231 (another for $464); 9. The Row Mary Jane flats, sz 7, $650 (another for $585, another for $729, another for $699, another for $653, another for $574, another for $699, and $872, and $683,); 10. Alaïa leather ballet flats, sz EU 37, $621 (another for $915); 11. Paloma Wool leather ballet flats, sz EU 38, $333; 12. Emme Parsons croc embossed slides, sz 7, $175; 13. Gucci leather flats, sz IT 39, $564; 14. Toteme black loafers, sz. 10, $598.50; 15. Khaite velvet flats, sz EU 37, $327; 16. The Row velvet flats, sz 5/5.5, $490



Toodles.



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