Manolo, says from the website Strange Maps.
P.S. Many thanks to the Manolo’s internet friend Micheal
The tubs cost up to £17,000 and mimic women’s high heels.
They are built for the user to recline into, with their feet at the toe end of the shoe and their towards the heel.
Water trickles from a jet at the heel of the shoe for hair washing, while the plug is situated down in the toe end.
One of the designs, by Italian makers SICIS, is a 5ft platform heel.
The baths are all decorated in an elaborate glass mosaic style, making them resemble a disco glitter ball.
One features a shimmering bow amid different shades of pink and rose. Another option to choose from is a sparkling silver tub adorned with blue flowers.
One of the firm’s tubs, designed by Massimiliano Della Monaca, was styled on a pair of heels worn by the doll Barbie, who celebrates her 50th birthday this year.
High-heeled Barbie Shoe, Glitter Disco Ball, Bath Tubs! Truly, we have achieved the sort of harmonic convergence of fabulosity.
Like all good fairy tales the story of the phenomenal success of Jimmy Choo shoes should, by rights, begin with the poor, but honest cobbler toiling tirelessly in his decrepit workshop. Such virtue should be then rewarded. But, this is the 21st century, and so this fairy tale, “The Towering World of Jimmy Choo,” by Lauren Goldstein Crowe and Sagra Maceira de Rosen, begins with naked pictures of a spoiled rich girl.
The spoiled rich girl is Tamara Mellon, the force behind the transformation of Jimmy Choo from the talented, persnickety, poor-but-honest Chinese-Malaysian-English cobbler, into the household name. The naked photographs, which are being auctioned off by Christies to benefit charity, are not just of Mellon, but an entire who is the who gallery of 21st century celebrity slatterns, including the queen bee herself, Paris Hilton, clad only in Cartier jewels and Jimmy Choo shoes. At the auction, “the [bidding] exchange continued until Walid Juffali, a Saudi Arabian billionaire, had spent £220,000 (or $396,000) for the naked Tamara. He beat out Flavio Briatore, the Formula One racing boss and one of Tamara’s old flames, who was seated in the front row next to Elton John. It was shy of the £270,000 ($486,000) that Juffali had paid for the naked Kate Moss moments before.”
Such is the raw material of the modern fable: wealthy nincompoops, grasping self-promoters, society page jackasses, bumptious oil sheiks and vaguely aristocratic, Euro-trash slimeballs, all jumbled together with more money than can be reasonably counted in one lifetime.
Now you must go read the whole thing.
Manolo says, over the weekend, at Eurovision 2009, the final battle for the soul of Europe was joined, Good versus Evil: Let’s Rock!
Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
I will soon receive my graduate degree. What better occasion for a truly super-fantastic pair of shoes than this day, when they are the only thing peeking out from under the gown as I walk across the stage? I want something that has Presence: none of these little stiletto deals, but a very special shoe with exuberance, panache and substance. Like me. Please advise.
Manolo says, the Manolo hopes that his soon-to-be newly graduated friend has the gainful employment awaiting her at the end of her exuberantly panacheful walk across the stage of education.
Otherwise, it is out into the recessionary world where jobs are scarce, and every cappuccino jockey and movie-theater usher has the doctorate in comparative literature. And these are the lucky ones, as the philosophy majors are standing on the street corners with cardboard signs announcing their availability to “engage in Kantian dialectics for food.”
The Manolo also hopes that his friend’s new degree is in something more useful to the current economic situation, something like bankruptcy studies, or post-structural penny-pinching.
Here is the Two-Button, Round-Toed Pump from Marc by Marc Jacobs. Available in three super fantastic colors, these substantial and panache-laden shoes are not your typical stilleto dealio. And look! They are on the sale, nearly 50% off of the usual price. Thus, you can begin your new life on the note of fiscal responsibility!
Manolo asked, whose shoes?
Manolo answers, it is the Julie Andrews!
Congratulations to the Manolo’s internet friend Klee, who was the first to identify this person of note.
Manolo says, Mr. Henry on the importance of ratio.
Baking always seems to be more wizardry than science. While rolling dough you must pay special attention to keep the butter from melting. With confidence only gained by experience, that is, the experience of failure, you must administer timely applications of ice water.
But go read the whole thing.
Manolo says, it is Monday, and another Mother’s Day has passed and left you feeling slightly less than fully cherished and honored.
It is not that your children (and their enabler, your husband) did not try to make the day special for you, for indeed they did attempt to specialify it their own peculiar manner.
Sometimes, contrary to the popular banality, it is not the thought that counts. Sometimes, it is the actual item, or the manner in which it is delivered that counts.
Take, for the example, that celebratory breakfast in bed, prepared by your teenagers, delivered by your pre-teen, and semi-supervised by your man. Yes, the eggs were undercooked and the coffee over-bitter, but the real problem was that you were compelled to lie in the beatifically maternal state under the tray, pretending to enjoy the meal while your bladder screamed out for relief.
To say nothing of the marmalade stains on your comforter.
Let us agree that our new Mother’s Day tradition includes time for the mother get up, do her business, put on her finest houserobe, and arrange her hair into something more presentable. Then, and only then, can the digital camera make it’s appearance.
“Smile, Mom! Oh, wow, look at that hair! I’m going to put this one on my Facebook account!”
Take, also for the example, the celebratory Mother’s Day dinner at Cooter Brown’s Rib Shack. Yes, your slab of pork ribs was bar-b-qued to perfection, and the hot wings were suitably spicy, and your bottomless Mason jar of sweet tea was frequently refilled…but still, there was that nagging question at the back of your mind, “What? Was Hooters all booked up?”
Well, at the least, the Russell Stover’s chocolate sampler from your husband was tasty, even if it was delivered in the Target bag together with the receipt for the oil filter and the packet of tube socks.
You know what would have made your Mother’s Day, super fantastically special? Special shoes from Chiristan Louboutain that spell out “Love”!
Why, they are just like your family, impractical and faintly ridiculous, and yet also, just like your family, so filled with good intentions and sweetness, so brazenly about love, that any errors of judgment can be easily overlooked, indeed embraced as what makes them special.