You come out with those blocks of colour still in your head. You look down. They are down there too.

Nobody knows where you walked. The shoes know, and so do you.

You stood in front of those two paintings for a long time. Now they are on your feet, walking the next part with you.

The cat came round your ankle and you crouched there for ages. That afternoon, these were there.

Everyone says the flowers are done for the year. You look down. Still going.

He takes your hand at the crossing. A tiny gesture. A pair of shoes can hold it for years.

Anyone who knows this pattern does not need it explained. You have probably walked the same streets.

Too many places ask you to be serious. Keep one spot for a joke.

Walking is slower than driving,and you get to see what is happening at the side of the road.

Somebody asks your sign. You lift a foot. Here, you say.

That dinner is the same every year. This year you want them to remember what was on your feet.

So much in there is behind glass. At least this pair you can walk anywhere in.

Early morning in the old town, and it is out the door before you. Twelve years began with this pair.

One press of the heel in the stairwell — the door is not even closed and you are already downstairs.

Under the café table, folded beside the bag, quietly waiting for the next leg.

One press of the heel in the stairwell - the door is noteven closed and you are already downstairs.

Stand in front of the mural and it is hard to say which is busier, the wall or the shoe.

One smooth cream slab under a slip-on knit. On rushed mornings there is no lacing — foot in, and you are on your way.

A round, well-planted sole that stands as well as it walks. Gallery days alternate standing and strolling — it carries both.

Down the park steps one at a time — more sole, steadier sound.

A pool of deep ocean-blue suede on top, one smooth cream slab below. Winter days moving between indoors and out — the blue stays calm, the step stays steady.

The sole is built in waves, and it takes uneven roads in stride. The pug on the upper tilts its head and keeps the weekend loose.

A toothed outsole for rain-wet flagstones and mossy slopes — after the rain, you still walk sure. The flowers hide in the dark and show as you move.

The boardwalk ends at the sea, and the rope has been in the sun since August.

Worn with: A full city day, from the metro to the gallery.
Redesigned: Prints straight onto the classic low cut — a pair that is a painting you wear

Worn with: Trips, long rides, between seasons; a suitcase regular.
Redesigned: One upper, many soles: a sole for every road, the upper never changes.

Worn with: Skirts and cropped trousers, out light.
Redesigned: Ballet softness carried into a travel shoe — it folds, and lives in your bag.

Worn with: Tailored trousers and khakis, office-to-café mixes.
Redesigned: The classic loafer with the trim taken off — a full canvas left behind.

Worn with: Hoodie and jeans, the everyday set.
Redesigned: Knit carries the city palette, and the pattern follows the weave.

Worn with: Coats and socks, layered for winter.
Redesigned: The pattern runs off the upper and up the shaft — winter has something to look at too.

Worn with: Shell jacket and track pants, headed out of town.
Redesigned: A walking frame dressed in maps of far places.

Worn with: Over swimwear, loose linen, holiday pace.
Redesigned: Pattern painted across the sole — pool to beach without changing.

Worn with: Roomy workwear, oversized layers.
Redesigned: A sole made thick on purpose and an upper filled edge to edge — the "ugly" becomes a position.

Worn with: Straight jeans and denim, the match-all daily.
Redesigned: The skate upper kept plain in shape and given to the painting.

Worn with: Linen dress and straw bag, on holiday.
Redesigned: Spanish rope work wrapped around a painted upper — more seaside in every step.

Worn with: Tapered trousers and tech shells.
Redesigned: The dad-shoe sole on a travel-shoe body, easier than it looks.