Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
In two weeks, I am to graduate high school. Can you please suggest a fun and inexpensive shoe for the boring yet significant graduation ceremony?
Manolo says, ayyyy! Congratulations to the Manolo’s young friend on her academic accomplishments and the impending transformation into the quasi-adult state that immediately follows this event.
One day you are worrying about your calculus final, and the next you are worrying about your summer job as the camp counselor, where you will invariably meet the hunky older “dude” who rides the motorcycle, rolls his own cigarettes, and knows how to dance the lambada.
Sadly, or perhaps fortuitously given your friend’s long-term career prospects as the short-order cook, this romance will be transitory, as come September it is off to college where you will encounter the yard-long beer bongs, Lit Crit, and roommates who are enthusiastic participants in the culture of “hooking up”.
By the middle of November, you are back to worrying about your finals, although happily your study partner is the tall, blond, exceedingly hunky squash player, on whom you have the small crush, even if he is so WASPy that his lips do not actually move when he speaks.
Look, here is the Baby from Franco Sarto!