Every Bernardo sandal begins with a pencil. Before a single hide is cut, the shape is drawn by hand: the curve of the footbed, the angle of the strap, the space between stitch and edge. Each line is drawn, erased and drawn again until the form looks effortless. That last part takes the longest.
An idea from 1946
The habit goes back to our founder. In 1944, architect Bernard Rudofsky staged Are Clothes Modern? at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, showing how fashion forced the body, and especially the foot, into shapes it was never meant to take. Two years later, he and his wife Berta answered with a sandal of their own: strappy leather uppers on flat soles cut asymmetrically, so the left and right soles follow the feet that wear them. It was designed to free the foot, not disguise it.
“It is strange that dress has been generally denied the status of art, when it is actually a most happy summation of esthetic, philosophic and psychological components.”
— Bernard Rudofsky
Eighty years later, we still treat a sandal the way Rudofsky did: as design worth taking seriously, and as something made to be worn every day.
Designed in New York
Every new style is still drawn in New York. It is sketched, patterned and refined until it earns its place next to the icons: proportion first, then comfort, then detail. Nothing is added for decoration alone.
Handcrafted in Brazil
From New York, the drawings travel to a family-owned factory in Brazil, where skilled artisans turn paper into leather. They cut the vegetable-tanned hides, shape the rolled footbed and finish each pair with our signature white stitching.
What sets a Bernardo sandal apart
Look closely and the difference shows:
• Vegetable-tanned leather that softens and molds to your foot with every wear
• A rolled, padded leather footbed made for long days, not just photographs
• Signature white stitching that holds the padding right where it belongs
• A full leather sole with a rib-embossed, no-slip outsole
The result looks simple and wears as if it were made for you. In a way, it was. Explore the full collection in Icons, or read more stories from the Journal.
