Manolo says, as the Manolo predicted earlier this year, the pointy toed shoe has returned!

Round-toes have pretty much ruled the shoe world for the past decade, with a tenacity that belies their innocently girlish appearance.

But a decade is a century in fashion years (like dog years, but longer and potentially more fatal if underestimated) so it was inevitable that the point should return at some point. And lo, it has come to pass.

At Balenciaga – pretty much the bellwether for trends that the high street masses will be adopting – the gladiator sandals it knocked out last season have been replaced for autumn/ winter by shoes so pointy they will probably double as weapons for the requisite eastern European villainess in the next Bond film.

Even Marc Jacobs, who is surely Coco Chanel’s successor in his tireless promotion of the sweet and girly look, has pushed aside his beloved mouse pumps (literally, ballet pumps with little beaded eyes and whiskers fixed on the tip) for decidedly more grown-up and less rodenty pointier toes, at both his own eponymous label and in the current collection for Louis Vuitton. Similarly, the Lanvin woman seems to have matured from the pretty, round-toed mademoiselle she was just a few seasons ago to a full-on vamp, with black, sharp-toed teetering heels. “Round toes are on their way out and pointy toes are marching back into our wardrobes!” one fashion magazine gleefully announced this month.

And to celebrate the changing of the fashion guard, the Manolo recommends to you this handsome, comfortable, and reasonably priced, pointy-toed demi-d’orsay pump, the Cherry Hill from the Kenneth Cole New York.

Many thanks to the Manolo’s friend Linda Grant, who keeps the Manolo abreast of the English media

Manolo asks, whose shoes?

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

Reading…

Listening to…

Watching…

On the one of the hands, the Manolo must say that he found this new cartoon movie
Wall-E mostly entertaining and largely satsifactory. On the other of the hands, it was not all that.

You may count the Manolo, among those who think the Wall-E movie was beautiful to look at and sweet, not especially moving, and mostly inconsequential.

Indeed, more than anything else the movie made the Manolo desperately want to see Hello Dolly!. (Now there is the movie filled with life and consequence, full of entertainment and meaning.)

Frankly, robot love does nothing for the Manolo, who prefers that his lead characters be mammals, or at the least cute fish or smart bugs. And by the show of hands, who thinks that the sentient beach umbrella is the good idea? And that is the problem for Wall-E, for when the most utilitarian of machines begin to develop too much personality it is time for the rebooting.

For the Manolo, Ratatouille is still the best Pixar movie of all time. Here was the movie that presented complex questions about artistic drive and critical responsibility with seriousness and good humor. Truly the adult movie disguised as the kiddie cartoon.

By comparison, Wall-E lacks depth, and the important questions it raises are eventually pushed to the side by the mechanics of the extended chase sequence. In the end it is fine entertainment for the few hours, but will quickly fade from the memory, leaving behind little of importance.

Manolo says, Ayyyy! This week, the Spirit Fingers has asked to match the misshapen melons!

Manolo says, it is the Monday following the Fourth of July weekend and you are back at your desk, heavily sunburned, your hair still smelling of gunpowder and antiseptic balm.

Thanks to your husband, it was “the weekend to remember”.

Indeed how could you ever forget that headline in the Saturday morning newspaper, “Fireworks Hijinks Send Local Man to Emergency Room.”

“Well, it could be worse,” you think to yourself, “at least they managed to sew them back on.”

Still, your nerves are jittery, you think you might be slightly deafened in one ear, and your co-workers are sniggering behind your back about “Billy Ray’s” latest misadventures with the explosives.

You are tempted to stand up and shout, “Yes, his middle name is Ray, but he goes by William, dammit! Not Billy Ray! And he’s a good man!” But you know that it will do no good for they are louts and malcontents and petty peoples with no respect for those who dream big.

Oh, how you will have the last laugh on them, when your man clears that final technical hurdle and solves the difficult problem of turning kudzu into the cheap ethanol-based fuel.

“Think of it, honey,” he says to you so often, ” two birds with one stone! Kudzu and OPEC gone forever!”

You have already promised yourself that on that day you will march into the office and quit in the most spectacular, bridge-burning..no, no… BRIDGE-EXPLODING manner possible.

Naturally you will need your marching boots, something extravagant like these gorgeous python-print knee-high boots from Dior!

Manolo says, our own Isidore Gallant is praised mightily in the Guardian for his amusing work at the Manolo for the Men Blog.

On the catwalk, designers have tended to show several clashing patterns on one model, a look that has the same disconcerting effect on the eyeballs as glueing your face to a Bridget Riley painting. In the unlikely event that you feel bound to copy this serving suggestion, may I direct you towards Manolo For The Men, a splendid American fashion blog that appears to be written by Niles off Frasier. It bandies the word flâneur about with impunity, disdains American Apparel as “a smutty Gap” and spontaneously combusts when it spots John Travolta wearing a pre-tied bow tie. “Are you a child?” it squawks. “Why not just wear sweatpants?”

Many thanks to the Manolo’s internet friend Linda Grant for alerting the Manolo to this.

Manolo says, the Manolosphere’s own treasured wedding-expert diva, the Never teh Bride (a.k.a. Christa Terry) has been interviewed for the article in the New York Post!

“Given the state of the economy, people are seeing that it’s smarter to use money they would’ve spent on their wedding on more useful, permanent things like buying a house or a new car,” says Christa Terry, author of “iDo: Planning Your Wedding with Nothing but ‘Net.”

Terry says New Yorkers – who spend an average of $46,000 on their nuptials – are getting in on the trend.

[...]

There are plenty of other cost-cutting measures to explore, says Terry. “There are so many great ways to save money that people don’t know about, starting with when and where you choose to have it,” she says.

Terry suggests checking out cheaper reception options like state parks and museums, since many of them charge significantly less than wedding halls and restaurants.

Other ideas include opting for buffet-style meals instead of full-service and choosing simpler favors, like chocolates.

But the best way to trim expenses, says Terry, is to use the Internet.

“It allows you to shop around and compare prices, so you can buy items like flowers and favors in bulk at the best prices,” she says. “Additionally, there’s such a wider variety of products to choose from, which [can] make your wedding more original than those who go the traditional route.”

Naturally, the Manolo is exceedingly proud of his wonderfully talented blogging friend.

Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.

Dear Manolo,

I’ve recently started a new job as an auto mechanic, and I need to find steel-toed boots that are actually fun, not the same, boring black that every guy in the shop wears. Most importantly, they need to protect my toes from being smushed by things like a brake disk or transmission. Can you help?

Lauren

Manolo says, thanks to the ubiquity of B movies and bad music videos, everyone in America knows about the lady auto mechanics, who are always introduced to us in exactly the same manner, in which the previously obscured person in the filthy coveralls rolls out from beneath the car to be revealed as the dark-haired spitfire, chewing the wad of gum, and scorning our abashed hero for his sexism.

Of the course, this mythical cinematic mechanic of the female gender will never rise to level of primary love interest. The best she can hope for is to be the sort of super-competent, technical sidekick.

Happily, real life does not follow such shallow models, and lady mechanics are no longer relegated to these confining roles. Indeed, in the Manolo’s book, such women are heroes in their own right, to be celebrated with colorful steel-toed boots of great durability and character, such as the Doc Marten’s 1919 Series work boot in the cherry red color

Manolo says, here from Donald Pliner is the Nany in metallic bronze, the perfectly handsome and perfectly simple palate cleanser for when one tires of the more frenetically embellished shoes which are au courant.

Manolo asked, whose shoes?

Manolo answers, it is the Ingrid Bergman!

Congratulations to the Manolo’s internet friend ChaCha Heels who was the first to correctly identify the person of the week.

P.S. Sometimes the Google image searches reveals the most puzzling and amusing things

Manolo asks, whose shoes?

Manolo says, this week, the Spirit Fingers invites us to identify the movie princesses.