Vince Camuto D’Orsay Cut White Pumps

Jasmine walked into the gallery just as the lights dimmed. Her heels whispered across the marble floor, the soft white leather catching the glow of the art like it belonged there. She paused under a sculpture, letting the pointed toe and sharp silhouette of her shoes mirror her presence. Quiet, striking, unforgettable. Troy spotted her from across the room, but didn’t move. He wanted to watch her for one more moment. She didn’t need an introduction. Those heels had already made one. Troy started to cross the room, curious and completely off his game.