An Ode to Gucci Sleds
70+ years of forever inspo and vintage links
The year was 1953, and Gucci had just opened doors for the first time outside of its native Italy in the Savoy-Plaza Hotel overlooking Central Park in midtown Manhattan. If the Florentine-by-way-of-concrete-bunghole lore is to be believed, Aldo Gucci—picture Pacino in House of Gucci (2021)—eldest biological son (Italian ass descriptor) of Gucci founder Guccio Gucci (Italian ass name) had peeped our loafer-centric American footwear game in The Big Apple and, in an effort to give the people what they wanted while still classing the joint up of course, tapped into his papa’s equestrian fetish and the iconic Horsebit Loafer was born.
Gun to my head, it’s the shoe. Meaning, if I could only wear one pair for the rest of my life it’s gotta be Gucci sleds aka deal sleds, as they are equal parts affectionately and douchily referred to on Wall Street aka a key, moneyed demographic partly responsible for popularizing the footwear from jump. By this point, I’ve worn them with literally everything from suits (standard sleds) and jeans (scrounger sleds) to sweats (shame sleds) and swim trunks (sockless sleds), and, honestly, they never look bad if not absolutely fucking exquisite.
I currently own five pairs:
A vintage Tom Ford era beefy pair from eBay that are my absolute go-to’s.
Two vintage Tom Ford era square toe lug sole pairs from eBay I bought while writing this post because I practice what I preach. The reasoning behind buying both? Trying to nail the sizing. More on that in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.
A newish crushable heel pair I was bequeathed (re: sorta-kinda-but-not-really stole) from my friend Danny.
A newer, gifted canvas-lined pair of 1953’s that almost don’t fit.
Sizing can be all over the place unfortunately. For reference, I’m a true 10 and my favorite vintage pair fits trues to size perfectly, one square toe is a 10E but a little snug, the other is a 9 and a complete miss and definitely will be flipped, the crushes are a 10 but fit a little big, and the newer ones are 8.5 hence why they almost don’t fit though a 9/9.5 would seemingly work fine. Hopefully I didn’t make things worse in an attempt to be thorough. The glass half full take here is that you have some wiggle room to take a risk and they’re sure to stretch a bit over time. When in doubt, I always recommend going true to size in vintage sleds. That’s what socks are for. Please know thy foot width:
And your US to EU shoe size conversion:
As with most things these days the quality of vintage pairs is superior in my experience even if they’re begging for a little TLC from your local cobbler. The uppers are more supple—though, to be clear, if you’re getting blisters in any Gucci’s that’s on you—the lasts tastier, the soles tougher and the heels more stacked. You can always drop a rack on a new pair of 1953s (silver bits here, gold bits here) if you’re breaded like that, but your options are pretty limited when it comes to leathers, bit finishes and, again, BABY HEELS. This isn’t even taking into account all the capital-F Fashion styles or, god forbid you’re a real estate agent, the dreaded Jordaan model. It’s a true pick your poison type situation and I can only imagine being paralyzed by choice if it’s your maiden voyage.
Luckily for you that’s where I come in. You’ll find a bunch of solid, vintage options below with some fun, zooded out inspo mixed in for good measure. Let’s ride…
Explore all of our shopping content here.