10 Summer Mini Dresses And The Flat Shoes To Pair Them With, From Flip Flops To Sneakerinas
This season's mini dresses come in every mood, with nighties, shift and pleat skirt shirt dresses leading the way. But while the dress may be the star of the show, the right pair of flat shoes can completely transform the vibe - flip flops can emphasise chill factor, trainers practicality and knee-high boots make everything a bit more professional.
This summer, stylish flat summer shoe styles are aplenty: jelly shoes, boat shoes and sneakerinas are proving themselves practical and directional. A good pair of summer flats are the unsung heroes of summer wardrobes, offering the kind of versatility and comfort that high temperatures (and long days) demand.
Whether you're going for effortlessly cool, polished and pretty, or just want to survive a day of walking in comfort and style, we've rounded up 9 summer mini dresses and paired each with the perfect flat shoe. Think of it as your warm-weather outfit formula cheat sheet.
Add colourful accessories, like a yellow sunhat or charm-laden anklet, to this beach-ready pairing of cotton mini and flip flops.
Heading out out but aren't one for heels? Aeyde's metallic strappy sandals are the answer to your conundrum. Paired with Marlies Grace's cotton mini and you'll be the best dressed girl at the soirée, and the comfiest.
If you're looking for a 'Euro Summer' 'fit that will take you 20k steps in the Mediterranean heat then look no further than the Speedcat Ballet (Dua Lipa's favourites) with If Only If's barely-there nightie.
When the temperature is in the low 20s, mix up your styling by swapping in autumn boots with your favourite summer mini dress. It's giving Swinging Sixties.
An outfit for that well-earned annual leave if we ever did see one, cotton dresses in bold hues are a match made in heaven with earthy espadrilles.
Technically a romper, Peachy Den's embroidered mini is all kinds of nostalgic, particularly if you add a pair of childlike jelly sandals - an ensemble for the beach for sure.
Skinny trainers are the silhouette of the season, and gingham the print. Put them together are you have a summer hit.
Miu Miu said preppy style was back and who are we to not oblige? Shirt dresses are a great warm weather work dressing hack and Gimaguas' pleated skirt iteration feels fresh.
When humidity hits, we know less is most certainly more. That's why we suggest pairing With Nothing Underneath's linen mini with some mesh flats.
Daisy Murray is the Digital Fashion Editor at ELLE UK, spotlighting emerging designers, sustainable shopping, and celebrity style. Since joining in 2016 as an editorial intern, Daisy has run the gamut of fashion journalism - interviewing Molly Goddard backstage at London Fashion Week, investigating the power of androgynous dressing and celebrating the joys of vintage shopping.
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Sunday short stories, episode 1 : My Big Fat Greek Honeymoon
This week's story takes us to the beautiful Greek island of Santorini, where love and suspense dance under the setting Mediterranean sun. Hello readers! My name is Kay Kingsman and I am a fiction author and travel writer. I am starting a new weekly column called "Sunday short stories" that will be travel-focused short stories, each week featuring a new story in a new destination - a la Shakespeare when he used to publish his now famous stories in his local newspaper. If this particular story is not your cup of tea, feel free to skip; each week will be a different genre. If you love reading, please consider subscribing so you can be the first to read every week! Now with that intro out of the way, let's get into the story. My Big Fat Greek Honeymoon, by Kay Kingsman location: Santorini, Greece genre: crime, suspense content warnings: murder (off-screen) *This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ——— I was the one scared to get married. Everyone knew that. Yes, it was a bit stereotypical of me, being a 30-something male and all, but marriage was a big deal. If anything, society was a bit too relaxed and casual about the fact marriage entails completely merging everything about your life to another person. And how long did newlyweds typically know each other? A couple years? Practically strangers. I was certainly not the man I was even two years ago. Plus, my heart had been broken before so I didn't fancy the idea of having to pay thousands of dollars to eventually have the same thing happen all over again. Thankfully, Iris, bless her sweet heart, was very patient with me. When we passed jewelry stores, she pretended to check her phone or suddenly feigned interest in the particular color of the sky. If we ate at an upscale restaurant, French if I chose or Mexican if she did, Iris would politely excuse herself to the restroom while the host looked up our reservation. However when my eyes followed her body sashaying into the bathroom, she would always pitstop by the kitchen to question the staff by miming kneeling and opening a box. Most of the time, they would shake their head, but on the off-chance they confirmed her suspicious of any proposals, we would promptly eat anywhere else. I had never watched a romantic movie with Iris either. She claimed that genre was nauseatingly ridiculous and catered to the chauvinistic ideal that a woman's life, no matter how successful, was not complete without a witty and slightly arrogant male partner. "Are you just saying that because I'm not witty or slightly arrogant?" I would tease. "Well, you are definitely one of those," she would retort with a smirk, turning on Top Gun for the fiftieth time. Not that I was complaining. And while Iris wasn't completely wrong, about the romance genre not my level of wit, I couldn't help but notice her Netflix saved list was cheesier than a plate of nachos. Iris did it all for me, which, when I was finally ready six years later, made my actual proposal extremely difficult. I had to catch her completely off guard. She foiled my restaurant proposal twice, a fireworks proposal once, and she even caught the time at the Ferris wheel. I had asked the conductor to stop us at the top when Iris ran to grab a bag of cotton candy, and even made eye contact with him as we got inside our pod. We stopped at the top, sunset dazzling in the background. I took the box out of my pocket, then called out her name. My heart was in my throat as she looked at me. Then she threw up all over my shoes. I put the box back in my pocket. 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As if that was supposed to mean anything to me. Most of the Irises I had known were Asian. "Well, that's cool..." because I didn't know what else to say. Iris had never mentioned anything about her heritage before. See - practically strangers. "But you were born here, right?" Her eyebrows rose into her hairline, "Does it matter?" "No not at all." I quickly backtracked. "Greece sounds incredible." And it was. Iris was beautiful in Greece. We arrived to the island of Santorini, Greece a full week before our wedding so she could show me the streets she used to run down barefoot every summer on her annual family trip. There was something about the Mediterranean sun kissing her skin that made Iris even more beautiful. Her bright blue eyes sparkled like the water lapping up at our feet on the rocky shores. Her hair glistened, soaking up the warm rays until the curls expanded into a full thick halo around her head. The language dripping from her tongue blossomed a new personality, one that I had only briefly seen after Iris had a glass (or three) of wine. On our wedding day, she was beautiful. In between resort staff pulling and prodding me in every direction as they ushered us through the schedule, friends and family sobbing throughout the entire day, plates breaking one thing I remembered was how beautiful she was. The day after our wedding day, she was also beautiful. Looking down at Iris now, her eye makeup smeared down her cheeks and one set of fake eyelashes perched on the side of her forehead, she was still beautiful. The day we met, it was at a dim bar on a Wednesday night. I just had a bad day at work and she was out for happy hour with her girlfriends. Her future bridesmaids, in fact. Iris had absolutely no makeup on, but her laugh made everyone turn around to watch her. For one, her laugh was very loud and on the verge of a snort with every inhale, but it was also invigorating. She was beautiful then too. Meanwhile, those same bridesmaids stood behind her at the alter, their eyes as dry as the whiskey shots that night. The way the sheet laid over her naked curves, revealing no information but teased to their secrets, I wanted everything to happen all over again. The meeting, the first day, the first kiss, the second kiss, every kiss after, all the hand holding and laughing and binge eating then stomach aches and the fairs, movies, vacations, running errands together. And the wedding. Oh the wedding. I wanted it all again, and to last forever. Bruises from last night trickled down the side of her neck in a twisted galaxy of blue, purple, and red, but already starting to lose vibrancy. Iris still wore her veil, I couldn't get her to take it off. Not even a full day after the wedding. No one could convince her to part with it, and I knew she wanted to live in the dream again. For it to last forever. 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