Beverly - Havana
Select your size
Size Guide
The Googoone fits true to size.
| FR | CM | UK | US | IT |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 35 | 22 | 2.5 | 4 | 34 |
| 36 | 22.7 | 3.5 | 5 | 35 |
| 36.5 | 23 | 4 | 5.5 | 35.5 |
| 37 | 23.4 | 4 | 5.5 | 36 |
| 37.5 | 23.7 | 4.5 | 6 | 36.5 |
| 38 | 24 | 5 | 6.5 | 37 |
| 38.5 | 24.4 | 5.5 | 7 | 37.5 |
| 39 | 24.7 | 5.5 | 7.5 | 38 |
| 39.5 | 25 | 6 | 7.5 | 38.5 |
| 40 | 25.4 | 6.5 | 8 | 39 |
| 41 | 26 | 7.5 | 9 | 40 |
| 42 | 26.7 | 8 | 9.5 | 41 |
You'll receive an email.
Note: The leather may have irregularities.
THE TRUE STORY OF THE AMSTRAD
( And why you should give them to yourself)
When I was a kid, competition raged between two categories of computers: the cool and the nerd. And as an only child, I needed a digital presence. So I lined up in front of my father's office to harass him and threaten to report him to the cops if he didn't buy me an Amstrad. I wanted a computer too, like my friends whose parents were richer. I wanted to play “Commando” and do triple back jumps at the Winter Olympics in who-knows-what city.
But at the time, my father was in dire straits, leading a triple life. He'd tell anyone who'd listen that his mistresses were siphoning off all his money. It made him proud to rant like that, implying that if he was a basket case, it was the women's fault. But it was his own fault that he was a lady-killer. Men over forty-five are even more unbearable than before. This need to please and be reassured at all times is a pain for all women. But that wasn't my problem. My problem was to have this computer with a joystick so I could throw tattoos and challenge in the mean streets of the Bronx.
My father then told me that if I could bring him a set of top marks in a row (let's say five), he'd agree to take the computer away from me. So I worked like a dog and, above all, I set up absolutely foolproof cheating devices. So much so that by the month of my birthday, I had racked up not five, not ten, but twenty twenties. Quite simply, they'd never seen anything like it at school. I'd become the Cédric Villani of middle school and the target for all the little suckers who couldn't understand how I'd managed to pass them as if they were ordinary French electric cars.
Proud of myself, I went back to my father's office, who was chatting with his secretary at the time, to claim my due by shoving an advertisement cut out from Télé Star under his nose (my father adored and still adores this magazine, which looks like it was written by termites). “There, I've done what you wanted, I've even exceeded all your expectations, I've become the symbol of the school remontada, so please daddy, do me justice and offer me this Grail.”
So, ashamed as I was, I asked my father to go and change it where he'd bought it. Problem: he'd found it on the “back of the truck”, as he liked to say, and there was no way of returning it. With a heavy heart, I accepted his strange gift and remained in my corner, unable to exchange games with my friends at school.
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