These two posts sum up all my ambivalence about the shoes The Manolo features. I love shoes. I love shoes a good deal. Were these sandals in the Victoria and Albert Museum I would study them for a while and sigh with envy at the women who got to wear them. But I am never, ever, ever going to buy them, in part because the guilt at spending $645 on one pair of shoes would be rather nasty (my wedding gown wasn’t much more than that, frankly, and I felt guilty for that cost) and in part because, like most designer shoes, they don’t come in a 9.5C.

The trick is appreciating the lovely sandals and yet also coming to terms with the fact that the lovely sandals have no place in one’s life. The wit of the Manolo helps.

” the ‘deep-reading’ of the some replies were a hoot!”

Can’t let this go unchallenged. Manolo’s blog is a bagatelle. He has created a roguish persona who has converged shoes and platonic philosophy into one coherent discourse. I read his posts as an exercise in sophisticated archness and try to respond in the same spirit: you know, wink, wink… This is what makes it so much fun. It’s those who rush to exonerate Manolo from doing exactly what makes him Manolo that are the hoot.

How else to do justice to this charming bagatelle, an entire blog dedicated with all due seriousness to create FUN out of a combination of shoes and platonic philosophy?

What’s a bagatelle?

“A bagatelle is a game-like literary tool used in fiction. The author empowers a character or object beyond natural or expected abilities (i.e. of comprehension, awareness, memory, etc.) so that it may carry a point across to the reader more transparently. A bagatelle creates a more direct communication between author and reader than common in fiction; it is the equivalent of a wink.” (Wiki)

Wink, wink…

These are truly exquisite, and it is not possible to find a copy that comes close.

Let’s take it at that and not rake the poor Manolo over the coals for the honest answer.

Having been adult and objective about the whole matter, the ‘deep-reading’ of the some replies were a hoot!

Thank you for explaining yourself Manolo, although you didn’t have to.

I remember reading two years ago that the exchange rate of dollars to Euros was one of the prime reasons for shoe prices being so high . . . back then! Now, it’s two years later, and the prices are even higher.

I also remember being shocked at how “high” the prices seemed back then. I seem to recall a time when a sandal like that might have cost $500 and seemed shocking. No more. Times have changed, and I’ve become desensitized. I barely batted an eye when I saw that price.

One final note before I end my stump speech: These sandals are a classic design, not some short-lived, naff fad that will be “out” before you even leave the store with the precious shoes. These sandals will be wearable for as long as a girl can keep the shoes alive with proper maintenance and repair. Worth.It.Every.Time.

From his explanation, now I read his ‘No’ as saying the following: You’re too poor, baby, to own a pair of uniquely beautiful teal-colour satin shoes. There is nothing I, Manolo, can do to console you over this fact of life. Anything you find that might look remotely like your object of desire is just a cheap immitation.

The “No” is a truthful answer. But… from the author of “The consolation of the shoe”, I have come to expect a more thoughtful response. I have come to expect great powers of empathy into the uncharted depths of woman’s longings. I have come to trust that singular form of expression. His “No” feels to much like hauteur. Manolo may have forgotten Proust’s insight on the question of frankness, when he said that “flattery is sometimes merely an overflow of affection and frankness the foam and slobber of a bad mood.”

But for my part, I forgive this momentary lapse:-)