How To Get On Board With Summer's Naked-Sandal Trend If You Hate Exposed Toes

Jen Carey

Sometimes it’s the insults endured in childhood that cut the deepest. Crafted most often by a family member with endless material and superior knowledge of psychological weak spots, their brutal accuracy can often be felt years later. In my case, it was a jibe lobbed by my sister in the middle of an argument probably sparked by who got to sit in the front seat of the car on the way to school: “You have hyper-active toes”.

I have triumphed over such physical shortcomings as wonky teeth, severe acne, freakishly long limbs (I know this sounds like a humblebrag, but you try finding a pair of 36in inner-leg jeans on an 11-year-old’s pocket money). There’s not much one can do, however, about wiggly toes.

“Wiggly” does little to describe the exuberant range of motion in which, it transpired, my toes were regularly partaking. In the sanctity of my bedroom later that day, I removed my socks and surveyed my digits: I was surprised to note that my toes were engaged in an uncontrollable – and seemingly ceaseless – samba. Horrified, I began to study other people’s toes. I discovered that some people have second toes longer than their big toes. Some have nails in various states of distress. Some have hair. Others have – deep breath – verrucae, fungal pathogens, and bunions. Juicy bunions.

That’s when the podophobia set in. “I wish I could just cut you off!” I sighed, when encountering my toes in the shower, instigating their own private Mexican wave. For years, I wore socks everywhere, and with everything. If I had to wear sandals, for thermal reasons, or in order to adhere to a dress code, I’d construct clever little Elastoplast bindings to keep those toes from bursting into rapid rhythmic dances. If I had to go swimming, I insisted on wearing neoprene surf shoes, or quickly dried and slipped them into a pair of Vans as soon as I exited the water.

Over the years I have experimented with sandal styles of the open-toe variety, but always come back to plimsolls and ballet pumps. The months between May and September are the worst. Getting on the Tube is an ordeal akin to Hercules cleaning the Augean stables – oh, how I wish I could divert the rivers Alpheus and Peneus to wash the siege of filthy feet that regularly trample the Victoria line. I have learnt to avert my eyes from the floor and study the advertising above the seats, ranking the posters out of ten. (I like that Hinge one at the moment. “Designed to be deleted”. Clever idea.)

This summer, however, it will be harder than ever to avoid toes. Spring/summer 2019, in addition to being the season of tie-dye, fringing and cycling shorts, is the season of what Vogue has christened “The Naked Sandal”. Net-A-Porter has sold close to 11,000 pairs. Everyone from Prada to Valentino to Mango and M&S has come up with a hyper-minimal, barely-there whisper of footwear. Even worse: I have fallen for Emme Parsons’s flat Nineties styles, which look like the kind of thing Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy might have worn with a Calvin Klein tank, a pair of cropped jeans and a funky bandana.

Courtesy of Mango

How to take on the trend if you hate, hate, hate toes? Book into Margaret Dabbs, pronto – there’s nothing like a good slough to make your feet feel mildly palatable. Then, pick a polish. Light pink never dates, nor Chanel’s tomato-hued “Arancio Vibrante” (try chanting “Arancio Vibrante!” under your breath, the naked-sandal-hater/wiggly-toe-sufferer’s version of Maria’s “I have confidence” in The Sound Of Music).

You’ll need a large pair of sunglasses (try Gucci – the bigger, the better) to hide your facial expressions if you so glance towards earth, and Other People’s Toes. And you’ll need a pair of Emme Parsons’s “Susan” wraparound sandals. They’re so pretty, you won’t be able to resist exposing your dancing toes to sunlight. On that note, here are 16 pairs of barely-there sandals to inspire a “bare minimum” approach this summer.