Manolo says, here are the high-heeled boots from Charles David which are perfect for your Halloween Treat or Tricking. They are called by the odd name of “Butane”, presumably because they burn white hot with spooky sexiness.
The Manolo can’t decide which he likes better, the red, or the black. The black is witchey. The red, devilish.
Manolo says, real headline from Pravda: Putin Easily Mingles in Animal World.
Just like Rex Harrison!
Two dolphins and the shark, discussing foreign policy
In Soviet Russia, you do not sleep with the fishes, the fishes sleep with you!
The Goat of Christmas Past
For some unknown reason Pravda has included in its article this animal-free beefcake photo, which the Manolo has entitled…
“Slim pickings this year at Fire Island.”
Manolo says, remarkably, this magnificent suede shoe by Brian Atwood has the 5 inch heel.
Anyone can put on the teeteringly high heels on the shoes, but only the true artist can make the shoes with the five inch heels that seem proportional, make them seem beautiful, and, dare the Manolo say it, make them seem practical.
Manolo says, here are the few links which may perhaps amuse…
Single men, forget all the things you hear from Maxim and Stuff about how to pick up a chick.
Manolo says, thus far, this has been the very good week for the Manolo. Yesterday, the Manolo’s good friend Linda Grant launched her blog, The Thoughtful Dresser. Today, the Manolo can announce the return to the internet of his friend John D. Erickson, at the weekly blog called The Materialist, which will be the site devoted to the careful study of men’s clothing.
Here is the excerpt from the very smart piece about how big clothing manufacturers have caught onto the power of details.
One of my favorite obsessive-compulsive tendencies has been thrown into a tizzy over the past year or two. It used to be so revealing. I’d be able to tell who made your shirt, or at the very least to what quality level it was made, with a quick glance at the buttonholes. With one glance at your sleeve cuffs, I could also tell the ages of your children and the name of your psychologist. The cut of your suit jacket could have been done by anyone, but the marginal differences in details told me it’s Oxxford! Or those sleeve buttonholes, they told me your checking account balance, and it was like seeing straight through to your soul.
But these days I’m reading everyone wrong. Now manufacturers from the really best ones to the merely mediocre ones know about the right details and have the machinery to make them. For example, can you believe that for a few seconds last week I actually thought my friend Max had outdone himself (once again!) and was wearing an expensive sport shirt by a small producer in Italy, when in fact it was a J. CREW SHIRT that I had watched him purchase–recommended he purchase!–only three weeks prior? I know, it’s awful. But there it was, with a subtly colorful stripe, single-needle side seams, honest-to-God gussets, and buttons that looked like they cost a full Euro or two, wholesale. And it fit him well, that’s the worst part. Made in the People’s Republic of China, it was, retail price something like 70 bucks. A shirt with those tell-all details used to cost at bare minimum $150 just a few years ago. What happened?
It seems to me that interest in men’s clothing has reached a point that manufacturers are racing to include details previously only seen at the highest end of quality. That’s good, of course, because it means more of us get to enjoy the little details at more reasonable prices, even if we don’t really know why they’re there.
But, as they say, you must go and read the whole piece, indeed, the whole blog, you will learn much.
Manolo says, it is Tuesday, time to see what the Manolo is…
It is now official, the Manolo’s new favorite television show is The Flight of the Conchords. It is delightfully absurd, and the music is quite good.
Of course, you must judge for yourself, as this excerpt below is perhaps the funniest thing the Manolo has seen all year.
Brilliant!
Manolo says, “Darling, what do you think this means, “I haz a bucket?”
