Start.

ANNIE VALA'S DIARY

My grandmother's shoes.

I want to tell you something, just like you would tell a friend.

I don't remember how old I was. I was little. But I do remember perfectly running barefoot, over and over again, to my paternal grandmother's closet. She was my best friend. She's no longer with me, but I swear she lives in every pair I make.

Her closet seemed enormous to me, like a whole world. And she, so vain, so in love with fashion and especially with shoes, would open it and show them to me one by one. I saw them as one sees something magical. The only thing I wanted in this life was to be like her. To wear her shoes.

And I tried them all on. They were huge on me, I tripped, I laughed, and I started all over again. I never imagined—how could that child have known?—that those shoes would one day give me the desire to keep going.

If I could go back and tell seven-year-old Annie that one day she would indeed wear her grandmother's shoes, and that those very shoes would give her the strength and confidence to start her dream... she wouldn't believe me. But here we are.

I kept all her treasures. All her shoes. And that's why I want you to know something: every VALA BLANCA design I make with all my love, always thinking of her. And of my other grandmother, my co-founder, who is still here, in love with life and shoes, laughing with me every step of the way.

For me, a shoe is a work of art. It's a way of speaking without saying anything. It's carrying those we love even if they are no longer with us.

And I tell you this from the bottom of my heart: never underestimate the power an object can have. Sometimes, it's precisely that which will keep you going in difficult moments. For me, it's my brown leather boots. I put them on and I'm that little girl again.

That's why I wanted to tell you. Because you are not just my clients, you are my community, and I want you to feel that what we do is as much yours as it is mine.

Love,

Annie Vala.