Ancient Greek Sandals started in 2012, when Christina Martini and Nikolas Minoglou decided that the sandals sold to tourists around Athens deserved better leather and better construction. Martini had trained at Cordwainers College and spent years designing shoes for Balenciaga and Louis Vuitton before she went home to Greece to build her own line. Minoglou's family already worked in footwear, and together they built the brand around sandals made by craftsmen in factories in Greece rather than sending the work overseas.

The leather sandals carry that idea most directly. The Saionara and Kallisti sandals sit at opposite ends of the same range, one a bare strap and the other built up with more coverage. I would start with the Filipa or the Eleftheria if you want something closer to a shoe than a strap, and save the studded Ilida and Dirki pairs for when the outfit needs a bit more edge.

The flats and mules move the same idea from a shoreline onto pavement. The Velvet wedge mules add height without losing the open, grounded feel through the toe, and they read dressier than most of what is in this edit. The Aeropi shearling-trimmed suede ballet flats go the other way, soft and closer to the ground, good for a day that needs no lift at all. The Fringe raffia slip-on flats trade the plain leather strap for something rougher and more textured, which is where the brand's Greek references show up again, just kept in the weave instead of spelled out. Pick the mules for polish and the flats for comfort, and expect either to survive more walking than the silhouette suggests.

Jellies read as a throwaway shoe until a wet path or a scorching afternoon proves otherwise. Minoglou's family has history here: his grandfather Nikos Minoglou ran a jelly shoe factory called Buffalo Plast in Athens back in 1957, and the modern Jelly flip flops and Saionara Jelly flip flops carry that same nostalgic idea forward in rubber. The Esther jelly thong sandals dress the same material up slightly, with more shape at the toe, and the bead-embellished version of the Esther adds a little polish for days when plain rubber feels too plain. None of these pretend to be a leather sandal, and that honesty is the point. I would treat the jellies as the practical backup, not the piece that carries an entire outfit.

Ancient Greek Sandals works because it refuses to be one shoe. The leather sandals are the serious purchase, made by craftsmen in Greece and worth choosing by strap position rather than pattern, since where a strap lands decides whether a sandal still feels secure after a full day out. The mules and flats are the compromise piece, dressier than a sandal but still built to walk in, and the jellies are the shoe I would never call precious, closer to a beach tool with a bit of design attached. I would buy the leather styles for the trip that actually happens and a pair of jellies for the one that involves sand or rain. Skip anything bought only because it looks good standing still. Choose for the walk in front of you, not the photograph.