The Slippers I'm Taking Everywhere
These Spanish-made, one-piece leather slippers made me rethink barefoot living.
Growing up, we were a shoes-on household. Polarizing, I know. But my dad was always working on something inside or outside the house, or later running to and from the firehouse, and insisted on wearing his work boots at all times. My mom made do with L.L.Bean’s Wicked Good mocs and shower slides, which we’d alternate throughout the years on our mix of wood floors, slate, and area rugs. As an adult, I’ve become a shoes-off person at home. I’ve invested too much in rugs to let an ignorant lug sole trample them in a late-night drunken stupor, and I dread the hardwood scratches that an errant pebble wedged in a sneaker sole might commit.
The Mediterranean climate in Southern California begets an indoor-outdoor lifestyle, something people tend to embrace barefoot or with as little coverage as possible. I can’t bear a bare sole; the accumulation of dirt and dust is a sensory thing I just can’t get over. For years, whether in New York or Los Angeles, I’ve kept up the moccasin and sandal routine; mocs in the winter, slides or thongs in the summer. But there’s an inelegance to both that has left me wanting. Expensive Charvet slippers aside, I’ve been looking for a year-round, travel-friendly solution for pretty much all my life. A couple of months ago, I got a cold email from the founder of CP Slippers, a brand I’d never heard of, offering to send me a pair of their Minimalist slippers. The branding didn’t really seem like anything special, but after poking around their site, I realized there was a legacy of craft that they were tapping into, an ingenuity in the simplicity of their design, and some added health benefits.
Cut from a single piece of leather that’s folded over itself and stitched with linen thread (the world’s strongest natural fiber) to create a toebox, the Minimalist resembles something like a taco or cut-open empanada—especially in the classic Tan color I chose. On foot, it may not seem like the most flattering or most comfortable silhouette at first. But like many of the best things in menswear—raw denim, fine tailoring—the beauty reveals itself the more you wear it. They’re slightly stiff when you first put them on—a result of the hefty nubuck leather they’re made of. I was actually a bit put off by this at first, but I remembered that nearly all leather requires a break-in period. For these, it was about a week of consistent wear before they softened up and started taking shape. After a month, they’re much more supple and have notably conformed to the point that they hold the shape of my foot. Their lightweight construction also means they flatten easily and take up virtually no room, making them an ideal option for traveling.
The unexpected benefit of these relates to foot health (CP has a whole blog on this). Unlike overly cushioned house shoes that can actually weaken your arches over time, CP Slippers encourage a more natural gait and foot engagement. Studies have shown that overly supportive footwear can lead to atrophy in the small muscles of the feet, particularly the intrinsic foot muscles responsible for balance and posture. A 2021 study published in the National Library of Medicine found that minimalist footwear can improve foot strength by nearly 60% in just six months. The thin, supportive leather sole of CP Slippers offers just enough structure to protect you from cold floors or stray crumbs, while still allowing those muscles to activate—something podiatrists often recommend for long-term foot health. They’re not a substitute for orthopedic footwear, but in a culture where we spend so much time cramming our feet into restrictive shoes, slipping into something this minimal can feel restorative. It’s a gentle nudge toward alignment—form meeting function in the most grounded sense. Time will tell whether I experience any of the long-term benefits, but in the meantime, I’m enjoying the ride.
