Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
At the beginning of April I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid for my sister. She has chosen for us to wear long, dove gray, empire-waisted dresses, which because I will then be 8 months pregnant, will almost certainly accentuate my giant belly. What I need is a pair of low-heeled sandals, something that will give me some stability as I totter down the aisle, while not overly constricting my bloated feet. Oh, and because I’m sure my feet will shrink after my baby is born, I don’t want to spend too much money on these shoes. Please help.
Manolo says, as always the Manolo has much sympathy for the pregnant ladies, especially those who have been involuntarily lassoed into the ceremonial role that will involve much standing up before the public while someone else is the center of attention.
Indeed, it has always been the belief of the Manolo that the pregnant ladies should be exempted from any sort of obligation more strenuous than eating the chocolate-covered, peanut-butter pickles while being carried, like Marie Antoinette, from place to place in the sedan chair born by six, long-haired, bare-chested Fabio-a-likes.
Sadly, the best the modern day lady of gravidity can hope for is that her husband parks the SUV in the lot closest to the church.
Look! Here is the Kalia from the Ivanka Trump, the strappy gray flats with the little bit of the bling that will not break your bank.