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Gucci Loafer the By Billy Fong I a m f o r t u n a t e t o h a v e h a d a f e w love affairs in my life — but none has lasted as long as my affair with the Gucci H o r s e b i t l o a f e r. Going on three decades, my relationship with the iconic shoe has given me pleasure, glee, understated glamour, and courage. When I'm wearing a pair, I have the confidence to walk into any situation. Unfortunately, this has also been the costliest affair. Quite frankly, there are not enough words to describe my obsession with this shoe, which dates back to the mid-century. My fascination with the iconic loafer began during Tom Ford's tenure as Gucci creative director. During his reign, sales increased from $230 million in 1994 to almost $3 billion in 2003. He created a frenzy and literal cult-like global following (me included). Remember, this was decades before social media and influencers. Back then, hype was created in fashion magazines and spread word of mouth amongst those in-the-know (denizens of Indochine in NYC and Skybar in L.A.). I was walking down a street in New Orleans in 1995 and happened upon the Gucci boutique — and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the loafers in the window. I had recently spied the glamorous advertising spread in numerous glossies (Vogue, W, GQ …), and the shoe in the window was being presented in exactly the same way. No muss. No fuss. A simple spotlight on a pair of shoes. It was the marquee star and really had no need of a supporting cast. A new chapter for the storied shoe. I have now likely owned somewhere between 25 and 50 pairs (if you are guessing, go toward the higher number). I buy a new pair every year as a milestone occurs — a new job, a bucket-list vacation, a particularly enchanting evening when only the right outfit makes it complete. They've come in a variety of styles including lug soles, every Pantone shade imaginable, Paul Mescal in the ad campaign for the Gucci Horsebit 1953 loafer Ode to and the wildly popular off-shoot, the Princetown loafer (in essence, the loafer interpreted more as a slipper with no back). My first pair? The scene is reminiscent of the oft- repeated meme of Julia Roberts as the hooker with the heart of gold in Pretty Woman, walking into the high-end boutique with wads of money. I had saved for months and was living in New York City at the time. My roommate and I had been out late the evening prior, and I woke up with that odd confidence one sometimes gets from a hangover and decided we should walk to the Fifth Avenue boutique so I could buy my first pair. (Walking was actually a necessity, since I wasn't certain I'd have enough for the shoes after a cab ride from my Hell's Kitchen apartment.) At that time, I believe they were around $350, which seemed astronomical. (As I type, the most pared-down basic version on the Gucci site is now $970.) I walked up to the first salesperson and tried to seem as cool as possible as I said, "I'm here to buy the black loafer." With a mix of Italian snobbery and courtesy towards a potential new client, he responded, "But of course, I'd be happy to put you on the wait list." What? To my shock, I was learning of my first wait list. Yes, I was a little late to the party. The Horsebit loafer had been the sought-after item for months with the jet-set social circuit. Until now, I didn't know my beloved's true origin story. How long ago did this shoe enter the luxury footwear ecosphere? Did its debut create the same sort of buzz as when Major Tom introduced his reimagining of the shoe in the '90s? For anyone interested in learning about the birth of the loafer, Gucci has created a short and chic video directed by Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost. In just under three minutes, you'll 50 (Continued on page 115)