I have this recurring dream where I’m twirling around the streets of Paris at twilight, wearing a tulle Dior dress and sporting a beret in the deepest shade of noir, all the while carrying a baguette in the crook of my arm. Of course, you can’t twirl effectively in spindly stilettos, so my footwear of choice is another French-girl staple: ballet flats. Naturally, I wake to discover I’m not in Paris, that the Dior dress was merely on subconscious loan and, to my dismay, there’s not a baguette ready to be devoured. However, much like Cinderella, I do have a pair of ballet flats that help me live out my Parisian fantasy in real life.
