Elizabeth & Soulier
Elizabeth
I’ve been tracing the history of the loafer from the 18th‑century French court to today—do you find those old silhouettes influencing your new sketches?
Soulier
Yes, the grace of those court loafers still whispers into my sketches, but I never let nostalgia set the line. I chase only the perfect balance, the silhouette that tells a story stronger than any old fashion.
Elizabeth
That balance you’re seeking—how often do you pause to see what the past actually did, and then decide what to leave out? Sometimes the quietest details speak the loudest.
Soulier
I pause only enough to trace a line in my sketchbook and then I move on—anything that doesn’t hit the perfect silhouette is a dead weight. The past is a reference point, not a script. I pick the quiet details that feel emotionally aligned, and if they don’t resonate, I toss them into the drawer. It’s all about that unbroken rhythm of form, not the noise of history.
Elizabeth
I hear that. Still, I find that even the quietest historical touch can add a layer of depth without breaking the rhythm—perhaps a tiny, intentional hint might enrich the silhouette you’re chasing.
Soulier
A quiet nod can work if it stays in harmony, not a shout that disturbs the rhythm. I'll sketch it in, only if it sings exactly the way I want the shoe to.
Elizabeth
That sounds sensible—just a gentle echo, not a shout. Maybe a very subtle nod to the original toe‑curve, only if it feels natural in the line, could add depth without breaking the rhythm.