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

Dear Manolo,

Colleen

Manolo says, ayyyy! To think, it is now 2012 and we are living in the future, which, strangely seems not all the different from the past, except that all of our best friends live in something called “cyberspace”, and all the teenagers communicate entirely with their thumbs.

But otherwise, everything seems familiar, as we still live in houses made of wood and brick (instead of moon rocks and plastic), and the Rolling Stones are still the touring band (although Mick Jagger now looks like the folk art dried apple doll).

Happily, despite this being the future, many smart young women wear beautiful vintage clothing in inventive and stylish ways, and thus require shoes that complement such creations without seeming costumey. For the example, pairing the 1950s dress with the 2010s booties, the practice which has much to recommend it.

Here is the Chaps from the Elizabeth and James, the stacked heel bootie that would complement the full skirts in the most non-dowdy manner possible.

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

Dear Manolo,

I walk at least 1 mile (sometimes 2) every day between buses and Metro stations. When it snows my flats aren’t good enough, but snow boots are often too much. What sort of shoes can I wear to and from work that are stylish and lightweight but will help me safely navigate snow and ice patches?

Cristina

Manolo says, the Manolo can never remember, is the Washington, D.C., supposed to be the Southern city that thinks it is Northern, or the Northern city that thinks it is Southern? Or should we simply say, “Mid-Atlantic”, which makes it sound as if it were located somewhere near the Azores Islands.

Either way, the Washington weather is always the topic of amusement and astonishment. Yes, the autumns are gorgeous, the springs sublime, and the summers unbearably hot and humid.

But it is the winters — often clement, frequently rainy, and occasionally snowpocalypsy – with their extreme variability that makes it difficult to find the single pair of winter shoes suitable for all occasions. One minute it is the balmy stroll to the bus stop, and the next you are like Yukon Cornelius wrestling with the Abominable Snow Monster in the peppermint mines of the North Pole.

Here is the Bardot from Munro American, the sharp-looking, water-resistant ankle boot for those days when the snow is melting away.

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

Dear Manolo,

For Christmas, I’d like to buy my little sister, who’s a first year student at a university in the upper Midwest, a new pair of winter boots. Can you recommend something warm and stylish that won’t break my bank?

Chloe

Manolo says, each year when the weather turns chilly, the Mediterranean Manolo begins to look for the handsome fur coat. Sadly, the two most readily available styles for the men are best described as the “Yukon Prospector” and the “Euro-Pimp Ski Trash”, neither of which suits nor excites the Manolo.

And thus you now understand why the Manolo prefers to live in the place where the temperatures rarely drop below the 60 degrees of Fahrenheit, because he is allergic to the way Gore-tex looks.

But there are many other peoples who love the frosty mornings, when the skin on their faces freezes to zippers of their puffy, down-filled plastic coats. Still, winter is not without its pleasures, chiefly among which are the joys of wearing furry boots while imagining that you are Julie Christie waiting for Dr. Omar Zhivago to arrive at your secret winter dacha.

Here is the Cate the Great from the Sorel. Not exactly Dr. Zhivago-ish, but still cute, fun, and extremely practical for dealing with the frigid Midwestern winters.

Manolo says, it is Tuesday, only the second week of November, and already you feel as if you have been sucked into the annual holiday season whirlpool; swirling, swirling, swirling around the giant vortex of seasonal merriment and angst. Any second, you will be dragged down below the surface of normality by the combined forces of heirloom turkeys, two kinds of stuffing, homemade pies, Black Friday shopping, nativity pageants at the church, and the Santy Claus.

You will struggle valiantly against it, but it is inevitable. Your holiday fate is sealed.

One minute all will be normal, and the next, as sanity leaves your body, you will be frantically searching for the silver nonpareils to adorn the twenty dozen Xmas-tree-shaped cookies you have vowed to bake for the firemen who extinguished Gary’s Camero last year.

No, you do not need to bake these cookies. Undoubtedly, the fireman at the station are still enjoying some of the 20 dozen cookies you delivered last year.

“But, it’s now a tradition,” you say to no one in particular, “every year since 2010 we’ve baked cookies for the firemen.”

And, this is the strongest evidence that you are in the center of the holiday vortex, when time and space warp. Things that appear insane to those standing outside the vortex, seem perfectly normal to those aswirl in the center.

“I think I’ll volunteer to make all the costumes for the Nativity pageant,” you announce to the candy novelties in the baking aisle as the supermarket, “I know where to find real goose feathers for the angel wings.”

No. You do not know where to find real goose feathers for the angel wings. And it is utter madness to think that you do.

“Wouldn’t it be great if the whole family dressed in the same pajamas on Christmas morning,” you say to the steering wheel, “I bet I can find something on sale at the Big Lots.”

Ayyyyy!

Look, in your final moments of sanity… gorgeous boots!

The Ferruccia Suede Knee High Boots from the B. Brian Atwood. Gorgeous and not at all insane.

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

Dear Manolo,

This past weekend’s early snowstorm has made me realize that I need to get going on my winter wardrobe. Specifically, I need some new winter boots, preferably not black. I find that when I dress in dark colors, I’m more depressed. Please help.

Megan

Manolo says, yes, it is true, unless you are the tuxedo-wearing bandleader, the brooding French grandee, or the vampire, newly wakened from the grave, somber black is not always the most flattering color.

Ayyyy! The Manolo has just had the perfect idea for the hit movie: the undead, aristocratic French vampire, who falls in love with the big band music! Think of it as the Count of Monte Cristo meets the Count of Dracula meets the Count of Basie!

Scene: Midight. Alleyway behind the Transylvania Club:

Count Dantes, the brooding and conflicted vampire, having just finished leading his group through the smoking set of big band standards, strides through the rain-slick alley dressed in the black overcoat, the black jeans, and the black cowboy boots. Next to him is Megan Star, the beautiful mortal he has recently hired to be his torch singer. Our heroine is dressed in the fawn-colored clothing, covered by the long shearling coat.

It is the study in contrasts. He, the loping black wolf. She, the innocent, possible prey. And yet, it is clear that the romantic attraction is growing between them.

Look! Here is the Frye Campus 14G Shearling boot, the perfect thing for dealing with possibly bad weather and possibly bad men.

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

Dear Manolo,

I am planning on showing solidarity with Occupy Wall Street this weekend and I am looking for a shoe that shows I am “of” the 99%, yet is stylish to be worn later in the evening to a casual cocktail party. What could you recommend?

Briana

Manolo says, ayyyy! This is the sort of question the Manolo dreads, in which the petitioner hopes to find the single pair of the shoes suitable for wearing to the two wildly different events.

For the example, “Dear Manolo, my new boyfriend, Clem, has finally agreed to go to see La Traviata, on the condition that we stop by his father’s shack on the way to the opera house to witness a traditional rural event known as a “hog killin’”. What would you recommend?”

The Manolo would recommend the new boyfriend, but, if such is not possible, then he would recommend packing your good clothing and nice shoes in the double-thickness plastic bags and changing into them later in the Stop-n-Go restroom.

In this case, however, given the reports of the poor sanitation at the OWS encampments and the possibility of rioting, the Manolo would recommend the wearing of the sturdy, thick-soled boots, but since his friend is going to the cocktail party afterward, she will have to take your chances with something slightly more refined. Here is the Nalanni from Ted Baker, the platform lace-up bootie that will keep you both radically chic and out of the muck.

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

Dear Manolo,

In mid-November, I’m attending a wedding in Montreal. I’ve already got my shoes for the ceremony and the reception picked out, however, I need something both stylish and warm to wear around town, while I’m there. What do you suggest?

Meryl

Manolo says, the last time the Manolo visited Quebec, it was the few years ago, in the February, when the weather was clear, beautiful and freezingly cold, with the outside temperature hovering somewhere around seven thousand degrees below zero.

Of the course, this did not dissuade the Quebecois from racing their mobiles of snow through the woods at all hours of the day, wide-open throttle in one hand, semi-frozen Molsen beer in the other.

But such hardy outdoor pastimes are not for the Manolo. who, like the iguana, is the warm weather creature, one which prefers basking himself on the rock in the sun to having parts of his nose fall off from the icy bite of Señor Jack Frost.

But, to each his own, eh? Far be it from the Manolo to suggest that people who race snowmobiles and voluntarily eat the cheese-curd-gravy-and-french-fried dish known as poutine may in some way be slightly off.

Here is the Aprelle from Ugg, the wedge-heeled shearling boot that will keep you looking good and feeling warm until spring.

Manolo says, from Aquinas:

Pulchritudo non habet rationem appetibilis nisi inquantum induit rationem boni: Sic enim et verum appetibile est: Sed secundum rationem propriam habet claritatem

Our friend Ecco says that this is Aquinas’s proof that beauty, goodness, and truth are “equivalent and convertible”.

But, the Manolo does not need the Aquinas, nor the Ecco, to know this.

All the humble shoeblogger must do to understand that truth and beauty and goodness are the same is gaze upon this…

The pointy-toed suede snkle boot from the Maestro Manolo Blahnik.

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

Dear the Manolo,

I would like to ask for your expert advice and opinion. I bought a pair of tight-fit blue jeans and I need a nice pair of brown or black kneehigh (or a bit lower) walking boots that are comfortable, orthopaedic, and at the same time stylish to wear with them. I want to wear them for years and years and still love them.

Olivia

Manolo says, this word “orthopaedic”, it is to the shoe connoisseur what the garlic-dipped crucifix is to the vampire, the object of loathing and terror.

How could it be otherwise?

To be the devoted lover of the shoes is to invest our emotions in the objects of beauty and impracticality. The Louboutin with the four inch heels can never be orthopaedic. It is simply impossible. They are as water and oil.

And, yet, because we are not the vampires, but merely people of aesthetic discernment, we must sympathize with those who cannot wear the beautiful and impractical shoes.

To have the painful feets is the greater curse, and so the Manolo as the man of feeling and humanity, must master his revulsion for orthopaedia and help these poor peoples in their time of needs.

Yes, it is true, the Manolo is the humanitarian.

Look! Here is the Stefanie from La Canadienne, the knee-high boot that is not only stylish and comfortable (perhaps even orthopaedic) but also weather proof, just in time for the autumn.

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

Dear Manolo,

When I first wrote you, I was but the tender age of 14, entering high school and unsure of my shoe choices. Now, as I enter my senior year of high school I am in need of your help once more. I need a shoe that tells the incoming freshmen, I rule the school but I will still take you under my wing and show you the roller coaster that is high school. A summer’s worth of nannying and future babysitting appointments make price not really a concern but still- I’m only in high school! Hope you can help!

Margo

Ayyy, the Manolo has been giving out the shoe advice for so long that the entire generations of the school children have grown to womanhood!

Happily, it appears that the counsel of the Manolo, about how to achieve better living and social domination through beautiful shoes, is having the desired effect.

Indeed, it is clear that the Manolo’s friend, Margo, through careful attention to the Tao of the Manolo, has made it to the pinnacle of teenaged human achievement — the cool, senior girl’s table in the high school cafeteria — without losing her humanity. Yes, she rules the school with the iron fist (hidden behind the velvet pompom) but she has not neglected the little peoples who are her subjects.

Truly, this is our definition of gracious majesty, for Margo has learned one of the centrals truths of the Way of the Manolo: with great shoes comes great responsibility.

Here, in the grey suede, is the Jerico from Vigotti, the reasonably priced ankle boot with the kickin’ rock-n-roll zipper cuff detail.

Manolo says, it is Tuesday, and you are back at your desk, and the Manolo is finally getting around to welcoming the new week with the short essay.

Yesterday you were saying to yourself, “what gives with the Manolo, he’s usually posted one of his Monday stories by now.”

To which the Manolo would reply, of the course the Manolo was not available! Yesterday was the International Talk Like the Pirate Day!

The Manolo began the celebrations early, and by the time he thought to post his Monday story, the spirits of the day (both abstract pirate good cheer and concrete rum) had already begun to possess the Manolo. Frankly, the phrase, “You arrrrgggh indeed most super fantastic, matey,” does not trip lightly off of the tongue, and so the Manolo decided to retire to his cabin early to recover.

But, today, to make up for it, the Manolo will show you something wonderful….

The suede and raccoon fur boots from the Maestro Manolo Blahnik!

Beautiful pirate boots for beautiful sophisticated womens!

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

Dear Manolo,

Thanks to the double dip recession, the earthquake, the hurricane, and my usually slack ways, I’m a little late getting my fall wardrobe ready this year. What’s the hot color for this season? I need something that will make me feel better about life in general. Please help.

Bridget

Manolo says, frankly, the Manolo is ready for the 2011 to be over today, so dismal has it been thus far.

But then the 2012 is not looking so good at the moment, either, what with the Presidential Election and the Mayan Calendar Stones Apocalypse both predicted to rend the fabric of civilization in the coming year.

Well, as they say, when the going gets tough, the tough get going, while the rest of us, like the Manolo, who are not so tough, get going home, where they lie down on the couch with the cold compress over their eyes
and take the little nap.

Later, after the light dinner, and perhaps the pair of revivifying kir royales, the not so tough might then thumb through the latest catalog from the Fifth Avenue of Saks, where they will discover that the hottest color of the season is “bordeaux”, which is strangely similar to “burgundy”, only different, somehow.

Look, here is the Paramour from B Brian Atwood, the autumnal, bordeaux ankle boot in suede and snake-print that will make even the Gloomiest of Gussies feel better.