"Ma Isabelle... è IMPOSSIBILE..." (But Isabelle... it's IMPOSSIBLE...)

This is probably the phrase I've heard most often in Italian workshops.
With each new shoe, it's always the same ritual.

My design is placed on the table.
Everyone leans in.
There are a few seconds of silence.
Someone takes off their glasses.
Another looks at the ceiling as if seeking divine help.
Then everyone looks at me.
And the verdict always comes down:

"Ma Isabelle... è impossibile..."

And I smile.
Because I already know what's going to happen.
In the minutes that follow, everyone forgets that it was impossible and starts looking for a solution.

I think that's why I love artisans so much.
They don't see problems.
They see challenges.
And I have a slight tendency to bring them challenges regularly.

My name is Isabelle Bordji.
I have been designing shoes for over twenty-five years.
I have drawn thousands of models, managed a shoe company, taught women to walk in heels that already challenged the laws of gravity.

Then one day, without telling anyone (myself included), I drew IMPOSSIBLE.

The plan was simple.
There wasn't one.

I didn't want to (re)launch a brand.
I didn't want to sell this mule.
I just wanted to get this idea out of my head.
Like getting rid of a song stuck on repeat.

I published it, telling myself:
"There. Now you can leave me alone."
Apparently, it didn't agree at all.

A few days later, millions of people had stopped in front of this shoe that was only supposed to exist in my sketchbook... and in the form of a unique prototype.

Some laughed.
Others debated.
Many asked where to buy it.

At that moment, I understood that this shoe was no longer just mine.
So I agreed to give it an existence.

I take my work very seriously.
Myself... a little less so.
Humor is probably one of the most beautiful forms of elegance.
And the absurd is often much closer to the truth than we think.

I don't believe everything has to be practical.
I don't believe everything has to be explained.
I believe an object can simply evoke an emotion.

Make people smile.
Intrigue.
Annoy.
Fascinate.
Make them want to look a second time.

I like objects that ask more questions than they provide answers.
I'm not trying to create shoes for everyone.
I prefer to create objects that naturally find the few people who were waiting for them without knowing it.

Some shoes are made for walking.
Others for dreaming.

I deeply love life.
Passionate people.
Workshops that smell of leather.
Cafes where a conversation lasts three hours.
Bursts of laughter.
Invisible details that no one notices.
My family, above all and against all odds.
This is exactly the balance I love to live in.

So welcome to my world.
It's slightly irrational.
But it's entirely sincere.