The cent of leather and dust hangs in the air, a familiar and comforting fragment that envelopes me every time I open the door to this room. Here, in this little secret king om sheltered from the chaos of the world, I keep my collection of ballerinas . Not just shoes, mind you. Each of them is a small masterpiece, a whispered story, an emotion captured in the soft leather and sinuous shapes.
My fingers delicious ely touch a silk ballerina. I still remember the emotion I feel when I saw it for the first time in that shop window in Paris, during an unforgettable vacation. It was meant for me, I knew it. And in fact, here it is, among my favorites.Next to it, rests a red velvet ballerina, with a black satin bow. A timeless classic, a delegation to the timeless elegance of Audrey Hepburn. I rarely wear it, almost with awe. It's as if , by putting it on, I could steal a bit of its charm and grace. Every ballerina has a story to tell. There's the one in woven leather, bought at a vintage mar