The Fold · 1980s-90s Black Leather Ankle Boots, Tosone, AU 9
Butter-soft black leather · folded tongue · knotted leather cord detail · inner silver zip · red pebble rubber sole · Tosone · made in Italy · late 1980s to early 1990s · AU 9 · EU 40 · UK 7 · US 9
Butter-soft black leather, calf height, with a wide tongue that folds across the front and is held in place by two knotted black leather cords threaded through eyelets. The cords are not laces in the conventional sense; they are part of the architecture, thick and purposeful, ending in small gathered knots. An inner silver zip at the ankle closes the whole thing from beneath the fold.
Tosone, late 1980s to early 1990s. The Italian leather boot of this period operated in a particular grammar: serious construction, minimal decoration, every detail load-bearing. The folded tongue and knotted cord are not decoration added to a plain boot; they are the boot's entire identity, a structural move that happens also to be beautiful. Tosone worked in exactly this register: shoes made to be worn seriously by people who paid attention. The leather is the kind that softens to the foot rather than resisting it. The red pebble rubber sole is the one note of colour, and it is correct.
The boot that asks nothing of its wearer except to walk.
Care
Condition with a quality leather balm twice yearly to keep the leather supple. Polish with a soft cloth; avoid wax polishes that can darken. Store on a boot tree or stuffed with tissue to hold the ankle shape.
More on looking after vintage pieces in our care guide.
Size
Measured flat: Insole 27cm. AU 9 · EU 40 · UK 7 · US 9. Ankle boot height.
Our size guide explains how vintage sizing is read here.
Condition
Archive-ready. The leather is supple throughout with no cracking or splitting. The inner zip functions smoothly. The knotted cords are intact. The red rubber sole shows light wear at the heel, consistent with use.
Our condition lexicon explains the grades we use.
Before it reaches you
Someone loved this before you did, and I try to honour that properly. Each piece is hand washed, or cleaned in the way that the fabric permits, then steamed until it softens and straightens and feels newly attended to. Wherever a button was missing, it has been replaced with a vintage one from my long-kept collection. Wherever a hem had given way, I fix it by hand. By the time it leaves this room it is genuinely clean, pressed, whole, and looked over one final time before I let myself believe it is ready. Not restored. Not made new. Just returned to a state where it can be loved again, by someone who was not there the first time.
The tongue folds over and the two knotted cords hold it there, so the boot is, in the plainest sense, tied shut around a secret it declines to specify. Everything on it is load-bearing except the red rubber sole, the single splash of colour, kept underfoot where only the ground gets to enjoy it. Leather this soft gives itself to the foot rather than fighting it, and a boot that surrenders that early tends to walk further than a stubborn one. It asks nothing but the walk, and repays it by keeping whatever you fold into the tongue entirely to itself.