The Oldest Trick in the House

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In November 1927 a black knitted sweater appeared in Paris with a white bow tied at the throat. There was no bow. It was knitted into the sweater itself, in a two-tone Armenian technique, precisely enough that people had to look twice.

It made Elsa Schiaparelli's name. The technique came from a knitter called Aroosiag Mikaelian. Schiaparelli had seen a jumper made this unusual way, found the woman who made it, and asked her to knit the first ones. As demand grew, other Armenian women in Paris were brought in to keep up. The garment that founded the house was, quite literally, made by a community of immigrant knitters working a method they had brought with them.

A joke you have to look twice at

Trompe l'oeil means to deceive the eye. In painting it is the grape so convincing a bird pecks at it. In clothes it is rarer, because clothing is already a kind of illusion, and adding a second layer of pretence risks looking like costume.

Schiaparelli made it a house language rather than a novelty. The bow led to collars that were not collars and cuffs that were knitted on. Later came Salvador Dali, and with him a lobster laid across a white silk skirt and a hat shaped like an upturned shoe. Chanel is said to have dismissed her as the Italian artist who makes clothes. It was meant as an insult and reads now as an accurate job description.

The same joke, on a sneaker

Which brings us to a black canvas sneaker with gold toes. The Trompe l'Oeil sneaker costs $2,600 and does three separate things the 1927 sweater would recognise immediately.

Schiaparelli Trompe l'Oeil sneakers. Tap to view at Schiaparelli.

The toes are gold, cast in brass. They belong to the anatomical vocabulary Daniel Roseberry has built since taking over the house in 2019, and they turn the shoe into something that shows you the foot inside it.

The sole carries a measuring tape, deliberately irregular. A measuring tape is the couturier's own tool, the thing that hangs round the neck of everyone in an atelier, and here it has been turned into ornament and put underfoot.

And on the underside of the sole there is a footprint. A shoe whose bottom pretends you are barefoot. That is the purest version of the trick, and it is the one almost nobody will ever see.

What you are actually buying

Let us be straightforward about the price. Two thousand six hundred dollars is not what a canvas sneaker costs, and nothing about cotton, thermoplastic polyurethane and brass argues otherwise. If you have read our piece on where to spend and where to save, you will recognise that this is not a structured garment doing structural work. It is canvas.

So you are not buying construction. You are buying an idea a house has been telling since 1927, executed precisely enough that the joke still lands. That is a legitimate thing to want. It is simply worth knowing that it is what you are doing, rather than telling yourself it is an investment in footwear.

Why it matters even if you never buy them

Most people reading this will not spend $2,600 on sneakers, and that is fine. The useful part is the thinking behind them.

Trompe l'oeil at this level is a reminder that the most interesting clothes have an argument in them. A garment can be a joke, a reference, a small deception that rewards whoever notices. That is available at every price. A collar knitted in rather than sewn on. A lining nobody sees but you.

Elsa Schiaparelli built an entire career on the idea that clothes could be witty. A hundred years later the house is still making the case, this time on a rubber sole where only the pavement can see it.

One practical note if you are tempted. Schiaparelli's own guidance is that this sneaker runs large, and that you should take roughly one size smaller than usual.