Manolo says, ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

P.S. If the Manolo’s humble twittering is good enough for the magnificent David Hasselhoff, perhaps it might also be good enough for you.

Manolo says, Happy Birthday to the Maestro Manolo Blahnik, whose miraculous birth occurred this day, in 1942.

Manolo recites…

In the interwebs did the Manolo
Helpful gift guides decree
Where the Manolosphere ran
Through websites measureless to man
Down to the shopping sea.

Look! Holiday gift guides from…

Green Manolo

Crafty Manolo

Manolo Jewelry

Teeny Manolo

Manolo for the Brides

Manolo for the Home

More to come soon, including the Manolo’s own Super Fantastic Holiday Gift Guide!

Manolo says, this bird, it seems so happy. Perhaps it knows something we do not.

Manolo says, today, as the Manolo gathers with his family and friends to give thanks for the many blessings Divine Providence has bestowed upon us, you may be certain, dear internet friends, that you will be counted among the chief of these blessings.

Have the Happiest of Thanksgivings!

Manolo asked, whose shoes?

Manolo answers, it is the Susan Sarandon!

Congratulations to the Manolo’s internet friend, ChaChaHeels for being the first person to correctly identify this week’s personage of note.

Manolo asks, whose shoes?

Manolo asks, when viewing this cover of the aptly-named V magazine, did no one else think of the previous, televised incarnation of V…

…in which the unnaturally beautiful womens, turned out to be…

…the malevolent lizard peoples?

P.S. “That means, of course, that Ted Turner is really a monster from outer space.”

Manolo says, it is Tuesday, time to see what the Manolo is…

Watching…

Listening to…

Reading…

Strangely, the Manolo has yet to read any of the books of the Harry Potter corpus. It is not because the Manolo is opposed in any fashion to fantasy and the worlds of make-believe, for indeed, clearly the Manolo spends much of his time in such places.

No, it is because the friends of the Manolo have built these books up so high, heaped upon them so much praise, that the Manolo is now afraid to read them, for fear that he will be disappointed.

Meanwhile, the Manolo has decided to dip his toe into the delightfully morbid world of Lemony Snicket. Who knew such joy was to be found in the suffering of innocents!

And speaking of finding pleasure in the fantastical predicaments…how can one resist the ridiculous premises, the flimsy pretexts and the beautiful waltzes of Strauss the Junior’s Die Fledermaus?

Manolo says, it is Monday and you are frankly stressing out over the impending Thanksgiving-o-pocalypse which is now barreling toward you like the runaway trainload of the free-range heirloom turkeys.

Normally, Thanksgiving does not cause such excessive stress, but then, normally, you do the Thanksgiving at your home. Normally, you do not agree to get on the plane and travel to your in-laws on the other side of the country for the long weekend of family togetherness.

Of the course, you are not worried about the weekend, as it will undoubtedly be pleasant enough, filled with turkey, football, and the ordinary frictions of family visits.

No, what is worrying you is the strong potential for disaster as you pass through the security checkpoint at the airport, because your husband Gary, the normally level-headed person, has vowed that his junk shall go untouched.

“You’ve been listening to talk radio again, haven’t you?”

“Only Michael Savage,” he answers, the strange glint in his eye, “but I heard Amy Goodman say the same things this morning on Pacifica Radio.”

“You were listening to Pacifica Radio?”

“Fight the power, honey,” he says, as he gives you the clenched fist salute, whether ironically or not, you cannot tell.

And so now you are worried that your man will do something stupid at the TSA checkpoint, like making the offensive wisecracking about amateur proctology or not getting the romantic dinner before going to third base with the screener.

Worse, last night you woke up in the sweat picturing the airport crowds cheering as your husband is led away in handcuffs, wearing nothing but his underclothing, shouting loudly about the “intrusive fingers of the federal government”.

So this morning at breakfast, you confronted him over the cornflakes.

“Gary, promise me you won’t act up at the airport on Wednesday.”

“What do you mean by ‘act-up’?”

This evasiveness is not the good sign. What you need now are shoes…

Look! Elegant suede platform sandals from Prada!

Not even the knowledge that your husband might be intent on becoming the folk hero of resistance can reduce the sublime beauty of such shoes.