Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post
I’m going to my Junior prom and I need help. I’m wearing a great little black dress, but since it’s knee-length I’m worried about not being considered dressed up enough. I don’t want to look like a princess or a sherbet, but I need shoes that add some color and style, and since I’m only in high school, price is sort of an issue.
Manolo says, oh how the Manolo remembers his own high school prom; it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
On the one of the hands the Manolo used the occasion to dress up in his finest frock coat and striped trousers, complete with the spats, the top hat, and the fancy walking stick. He looked like the seventeen-year-old version of the Rich Uncle Pennybags from the Monopoly.
Yet, on the other of the hands, because no one had actually consented to go to the prom with the Manolo, he was forced to stand outside the gymnasium and make the snide remarks to himself about those who were entering.
Such is the manner by which the professional critic is made.
Look! Here from the Guess is the Felecity, the strappy high-heeled sandal in the bronze color that will enliven the Julieta Promgoer’s little black dress.