OUR STORY

A moment I’ll never forget

In 2016, I walked into a Foot Locker in Alabama expecting to leave with a pair of sneakers I had been dreaming about for weeks. My nephew, who worked there as a manager, had invited my sister, our dad, and me to come visit the store. He said, “Pick out whatever you want, I got you.”

Before we even got in the car, I knew the exact shoes I wanted. I had bookmarked them online, a pair of women’s sneakers in soft purples, with a design that felt beautiful, bold, and uniquely feminine. They were by a major brand, and I knew they would have my size in store, even if it was not online.

At the store, my dad’s feet were measured. He measured a size ten and a half. My nephew told my dad to hold on because he would help him find the right shoe due to his foot issues. My sister's measurement was an 8.5. She was told to go to the women's section and pick anything she wanted, as he pointed across half of the store, which was the women's section. Then it was my turn.

My nephew measured my feet. He looked up and said, “You’re a size 12.5 or maybe a 13 in women’s.”

I showed him the sneakers I wanted on my phone. “These go to a size 12,” I told him. He told me that he did not get many of those sizes in his store and that this major brand ran small. According to him, a size 12 in this brand was really a size 10 for an average woman.

Next, my nephew paused and said gently, “You won’t be able to wear these. You’ll need to look in the men’s section.”

That moment shattered me

I looked toward the women’s wall, where the shoes were vibrant, soft, stylish, and intentional. In the men’s section, there were grays, blacks, whites, and the occasional neon green and bright blue. The men's section was all bulk, performance, no softness, and no elegance.

In a crowded Foot Locker on a Saturday, I felt that there was no place for me, no shoes for me. He said, “I’m sorry. We turn away a lot of women like you.”

I thought, women like me? What is wrong with me? My nephew explained how so many of the brands in stores like his did not carry larger size shoes for women or men who needed them. He explained he turned away high school girls looking for athletic shoes, and men that wore very large sizes.

So, I bought what I could, since we drove far for some shoes. I slipped on a pair of men’s sneakers, just to have something on my feet. I wanted black shoes and wore a lot of black then so that people would not know I was wearing men's shoes.

My sister drove us back home. I listened as my sister and dad celebrated their new shoes on the ride home, while I sat in the backseat, heartbroken and silent. They laughed and spoke about how it was great to see my nephew and how much fun they had.

They talked about how many shoes were in that store and the number of people that came in, out, and were buying shoes. I fought back the tears the whole ride home.

I was quiet the rest of the evening. I kept thinking about what my nephew said about "women like me." I could not help that my feet had grown so big. I cried myself to sleep that night.

I wasn’t sad just about the shoes because there had been hundreds of times when shoes did not fit me. This time was different because this was a store that was just for shoes, a shoe store. It was a shoe store that had almost every type of sneaker imaginable.

Every sneaker except the ones that would fit a woman who measured a size 13. I was grieving something bigger. That moment showed me, with complete clarity, that the market had no space for me.

A promise I made to myself

The next morning, I went to the store and bought a sketchbook and watercolors. I didn’t know anything about fashion design, but I knew one thing: I needed to create what didn’t exist.

At the time, I was standing at a career crossroads: I could go to law school, or I could take every dollar and every ounce of energy I had to pour into this idea.

I decided I would start the sneaker brand and go as far as I could with the money I had saved. I read books about shoes and how shoes are made. I reached out to shoe designers and shoe factories.

I learned and pursued every avenue I thought possible and tried anything that I thought would possibly help me. I hit dead end after dead end after dead end. There was not much information online at this time.

I did my plan B, law school. I told myself that I would set the dream aside and pick it up again. The seed of creating an inclusive shoe line for all genders was planted.

During law school, I wore the same pair of black stretchy flats I had found at a Goodwill. They were a size 11, but they were very worn in and made of real leather. They were the only professional shoes I owned, other than sneakers.

I only wore sneakers during this time in my life because other professional shoes were so limited to nonexistent for me. If I couldn’t dress the part, I tried to hide my shoes. I always wore black sneakers so that others wouldn't see the problem I faced of finding shoes that fit.

After graduating law school in 2022, I decided to move to New York City in December. I needed professional shoes to interview in, shoes that would keep my feet warm in the cold climate. I searched department stores in Alabama so I could hit the ground running in New York with interviews.

I went to Dillard’s, and the associate there told me to go to Cato's. I asked at Cato's and was told they only go to a size 10. I knew the types of shoes I needed. I needed professional shoes to wear with suits. I needed shoes that blended in and did not stand out.

Every shoe store I visited stopped at local chains at size 10. Maybe 11 if I was lucky, but not a 12 or a 13. And if they did carry larger sizes, they weren’t built for professionalism.

They weren’t shoes you could wear into an interview, a courtroom, or a boardroom. I thought about ordering shoes online, but I did not want to go through the return process.

However, I was able to find one pair of shoes that was semi-professional with a rubber piece that had a rose on the side. They were a size 11 but stretched a bit, so I made them fit. At first, they were tight, and I had to wear thin socks with them. But eventually, they stretched to fit.

These became my professional shoes. I also bought two other pairs of moccasin-type shoes (one black, one brown) to keep my feet warm. I had to cut the threads or the tie at the top so that my foot had more room. The black pair stretched, but the brown pair never did.

When I moved to New York to begin my career, I told myself I would find a job in planning or corporate — something behind the scenes. I wouldn't have to worry about what I wore on my feet because I would rarely be in front of clients. However, the only job I could get was in litigation. It matters what you ware in litigation. I couldn't show up in court representing my clients in sneakers. And that's when it hit me.

That I didn’t have the shoes

It hit me again. I felt how I felt 5 years prior. Again, I could hear my nephew's words: "You won’t be able to wear these. You’ll need to look in the men’s section.” I relived the hurt, pain, and embarrassment of having such large feet.

So, in the final weeks before starting that litigation job, I made a decision to focus on the seed I had planted 5 years ago when I went shoe shopping in Alabama. I spent the entire holiday season working on this brand, creating Vedones.

I researched everything I could find. There was so much more information online, and so many people had started their shoe brands. Most of the information was tailored for sneakers, but I was fine with that because Vedones will make sneakers too.

I learned about importing, manufacturing, leather selection, sole design, duties, etc. I looked into factories in Portugal, Brazil, Mexico. But I kept coming back to Italy, a place where craftsmanship is tradition and quality is not a feature, but a standard.

This time, I wasn’t just designing sneakers. I was designing something in addition to sneakers. I was designing shoes for the courtroom, for the conference stage, for the gala, for the ball game, hiking, swimming, etc. I am designing shoes for those who wear extended sizes. I am starting with heels because I need shoes for court, but I will not stop at professional shoes.

A place for those the market forgot

Vedones was born out of absence, an absence of inclusion, of elegance, of visibility.

It is not just about footwear. It is about reclaiming space.

This brand is for those who show up in black sneakers because the store didn’t carry their size. For the man who has to buy whatever shoes are available, because there are no other options. For the girl who missed prom because she couldn’t find heels. For the professional who walks into the room with everything prepared,  except the right pair of shoes.

It is for anyone who has ever been told, “We don’t carry that size.”
It is for anyone who has quietly learned to expect less.
It is for the people who had to settle, until now.

What we offer

Vedones creates elegant, high-end Italian footwear in extended sizes. Every shoe is handcrafted by artisans, made with intention, designed for confidence, and built to last.

Our first collection includes:

Two classic pumps: one with a refined thin heel, one with a modern block heel.

Two loafers with structure and support: available in 2-inch and 1.5-inch heel heights.

One pair of sleek, sophisticated flats.

Sizes 10 to 15, and growing.

Each pair is the result of precision, emotion, and vision. At the moment, we are making shoes for women who lead, who speak, who command, who rise.

Why Vedones exists

Because no one should have to shrink themselves to fit what the world offers.
Because beauty should not stop at size ten.
Because everyone deserves to be seen.

And because I never want anyone to feel the way I felt that day in the Alabama Foot Locker: silent, unseen, and small.

Vedones is a statement.

It's not just style.
It's belonging.
It's class, excellence, and royalty.

Vedones is power.

Welcome to The House of Vedones.

Make yourself at home.

Car, 

Founder and CEO of Vedones