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

Dear Manolo,

I am going to LA in April to visit an old high-school boyfriend, whom I haven´t seen in almost 28 years. He has proposed various outings at the beach, rollerblading on the boardwalk, climbing in the mountains, and visiting clubs in Malibu, but alas! I am the NY girl and possess very few action/adventure type shoes. What should I wear?

Laura

Manolo says, Ayyyy! The Perfect Chick Flick!

Our heroine (to be played by Diane Lane) has reached the Age of the Middle with the typical sort of romantic scars. Perhaps the Mr. Right has never come along, or perhaps he whom she thought was Mr. Right turned out to be Mr. Having-It-Off-With-the-Co-Worker.

Either way, in the opening scene she is alone, just her, the television, and the giant bowl of Rocky Road, when she notices that the name of the composer of the heartfelt and soaring music which accompanies the latest film vesion of the minor Jane Austen classic bears the name suspiciously similar to that of her first boyfriend.

“I mean, come on, how many Andrew W. Gabblefarbs can there be, right?”

Ten minutes, and one furious session of Google-fu later, and she has the email!

Cut to the parking lot outside of the Moonshadows Lounge, on the Pacific Coast Highway, where, following the full day of rollerblading up the side of the Santa Monica Mountains, her rediscovered love, Andy, taller and handsomer than ever, has taken her for the nightcap. As he helps her into the passenger side of his spotless Bentley, he steals the sly kiss… powerfully reciprocated!

Fade to black.

What can be more action/adventure than the cowboy boot, which is also very “of the moment” in Los Angeles. Here is the N4539 5/4 from Lucchese, perfert to pair with jeans, or barelegged with the short black dress.

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

Dear Manolo,

I am a college student and I’m looking for a comfortable flat boot, since I will be running around campus this year. My dream boot is knee high, suede, and cheap enough that I can buy it. Please help.

Chris

Manolo says, as the long-time readers of the Manolo know, the Manolo always recommends that the poor girl should save up her monies, so as to get the most super fantastic and well-made boots possible, as such feetwear will not only give the wearer more pleasure, but will also be more durable in the long run.

However, the Manolo also knows what it is like to have cold feets and be poor, so poor that you must fashion your own super fantastic snowboots out of the hides you have harvested from the dead animals found alongside the freeway, and which you have laboriously chewed into suppleness, Eskimo-style, and then stitched into shape and stuffed with dry grass for warmth. And which looked most wonderful, even if the smell of marmot lingered.

Look here is the Fauna Tall Boot from Timberland. It is not just cozy warm, reasonably priced, and good-looking, it is also waterproof!

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

Dear Manolo,

I just got invited to hang with a friend at the Sundance Film Festival, and as a native of the DC Metro area I jumped at it. I hate missing the Inauguration, but the crowds—yikes! Anyway, my friend promised there would be snowboarding, good food, and a party with celebrities. He says it’s going to be cold so I should wear boots. All I have are hot stiletto-heeled boots and crunchy granola hiking boots. What would you recommend?

Lillbet

Manolo says, ayyyy! Such good luck to be invited to the fantabulous Sundance Festival of Films, where the high and the mighty of Hollywood, hob and nob with each other and with the swirling mob of aspiring independent filmmakers, each of whom is desperately attempting to find the distributor for his or her strangely familiar master work.

In the space of the few days, one will be able to see many movies about sassy pregnant teenagers in the suburban upper Midwest; raunchy-but-good-hearted sex comedies about loutish men who in real life would be doomed to solitude; talky movies about drug addicts/mental patients who are mathematical/musical geniuses; and at least one picture about the gay gauchos who express their forbidden love amidst the majestic scenery of the Argentine pampas.

Look here is the Tabitha from La Canadienne. So cute, so weatherproof!

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

Dear Manolo,

I’m going to a graduate school holiday potluck with my boyfriend. I have never been to the school and I am not sure what to wear. My style is pretty conservative. What do you recommend?

Sandra

Manolo says, Ayyy! Merry Nonspecific Period of Non-Oppressive Festivities to all!

Let the Tofurkey and Macrobiotic, Bargain-Priced Sprouts flow like organic wine!

And now, let the Manolo stipulate that if the phrase “graduate school potluck” does not strike dread into your heart, you are not the feeling person. The very words alone conjure up the sort of lugubrious hilarity and culinary achievement one associates with Moldovan politburo lunches, sans the lubricating effects of vodka.

It is the little known fact that graduate students are among the most miserable peoples in the world.

Yes, the first year begins in high spirits, but then gradually, inch by inch, the lonely misanthropic gloom settles in, brought on by the low pay, the low status, the low self-esteem, and above all the low muffled beating of the unfinished dissertation, which, like the tell-tale heart, lies insistently beneath the floorboards of the mind.

Of the course, no reason you, the non-grad student, should not be cheery. Here is the Laugh from Franco Sarto, the perfectly partylicious affordable black ankle bootie.

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

Dear Manolo,

I’m going to my boyfriend’s parents’ house for Thanksgiving next week. The problem is that I’m a Republican and my boyfriend’s parents are ardent Democrats. They’re very nice, but they are also super-political, so I’m sure I’ll be subjected to lots of gloating. (My boyfriend is no help at all. He’s a libertarian.) What do you recommend to help me get through the weekend?

Cecilia

Manolo says, America, the Manolo begs of you, please, stop! The campaigns are over. Put away the yard signs, and the buttons, and the flyers, and the full-sized votive statue of your favorite candidate that you have carved from sandalwood and hand-painted in realistic colors, and which is now seated in the easy chair in the family room.

Now is the time to come together in the spirit of comity and mutual affection, to remember, during this joyful holiday of Thanksgiving, that we have much for which to be thankful, like roasted turkey, and televised football, and little children who are dressed up like John Smith and Squanto in construction paper costumes.

And so, please, for one weekend, neither gloat, nor grumble. Be happy for the many blessings that have been bestowed upon us.

Blessings such as this handsome, tall, suede boot from Peter Kaiser, the Levke.

Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk, and frankly, for once you are so happy to be there, although not nearly as happy as you are to know that tomorrow this election madness finally ends.

This is absolutely the last time you register you political party as “independent”. Indeed, your phone must have rung forty times this weekend, what with the robo-calls, and the pollsters, and the polite young people from both of the campaigns, trying to sway your vote, or begging for money.

Nearly as bad as the phone calls, was the constant bombardment of the television ads. Mendacity and hyperbole, bombast and misdirection, and numberless attempts to frighten and bully you into voting one way or the other, and those were just the ads for the county supervisors.

And then there is the entire problem of social discourse. You have spent the past several months tip-toeing around your acquaintances and business colleagues, speaking obliquely and avoiding certain topics, lest these peoples turn out to be the avidly unreasonable supporters of one faction or the other.

One minute you are talking about taking your nephews to the zoo, because they “love the elephants” and the next, you are embroiled in the heated argument about tax policy with someone you barely know.

Oy, but this is tiresome. You long for the days when participatory democracy meant voting for the homecoming queen, not trying to sort out the various currents and subcurrents of the modern American political system.

But, what can you do? You are the good citizen, and so you do your part, educating yourself and participating as best you can, even if you find all of it about as satisfying as the trip to the dentist.

And now you need the break, the long, pleasant, politics-free break.

Wait. What’s this in the Post? “The 2012 race commences first thing Wednesday morning.”

“Ayyyyy! Manolo take me away!”

This level of weary malaise and alarm calls for something super fantastic, some spectacular, something Louboutain!

Boots, platform, tall, fantastic, super.

Manolo says, at the moment, for the Manolo living in Buenos Aires is somewhat confusing. The calendar says it is time to get out the sweaters and carve the pumpkins, but the trees and the flowers say it is spring, when the young Manolo’s fancy turns to thoughts of sandals.

So, as the Manolo dreams of strappy flats in festive colors, the various letters from the Manolo’s internet friends all speak of boots and chilly weather.

Happily, the Manolo is the empathetic person possessed of the powerful imagination, and so he knows just what his friends mean, and can easily imagine the solution, in this case these uber-handsome, stacked-heel, mini-platform boots from Costume National, boots so wonderfully attractive that traffic on the main thoroughfare in that cutesy New England town will stop.

What New England town is that, you may ask?

Why it is Upper West Stockfordbridgehamptown!

You know, the place with the little village green with the white Congregational church and colonial tavern. That place, where you will spend the weekend with the tall, blond man in the Barbour jacket, looking at leaves, and searching through the antique stores for copper bed-warming pans and novelty andirons.

Manolo says, yes, it is only Tuesday, and the recent economic news has been gloomy, but that does not mean that one cannot start thinking about what to wear this weekend. Look, here is the Khloe by Beverly Feldman, the elegant and luxurious ankle bootie with exactly the right amount of rhinestone bling.

What’s this? The Dow Jones Average had it’s single best day ever? Happy Days are here again! Celebrate in beautiful shoes!

Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk, slaving away for the Man, nonetheless completely grateful that you still have a job. But, such is the nature of the scrap metal business (now properly referred to as non-ferrous metal recycling) , which flourishes when all the rest of the economy is going down the drain.

Yes, your office is sometimes filled with pieces of salvaged copper tubing and oddly shaped chunks of chrome, but otherwise the work is pleasant, the pay is good, and your boss is gruff but fundamentally kind.

And then there is Aidan, the broad-shouldered young man with the curly hair and white teeth, who works part-time out back in the scrapyard.

Jimmy, your boss, refers to him affectionately as “some oobatz graduate student,” which means he’s working afternoons to pay for his MFA in creative writing. And because of this, afternoons are now your favorite time of the day, because you can look out the window behind Jeanine’s desk and see Aidan using the crowbar to manfully pound on various pieces of metal.

And, ayyyy! Last Thursday, when it was so unseasonably hot, he took off his shirt, and suddenly you felt so warm that you took off both of your sweaters (worn because Jimmy likes to keep the office at 65 degrees year round. “Hey, what can I say, I sweat like a mofo!”)

You were staring so much, that Jeanine turned around and looked out the window.”Now that’s a side of beef,” was all she had to say.

And later when Aidan came into the office (now with his shirt on) you flirted with him shamelessly, mentioning that had just been reading Fiona Maazel’s Last Last Chance, even though that was only partially true (or rather true to the extent that you had recently read the old New York Times review of the book.)

And so you spent your weekend at the Barnes and Noble, drinking low-fat lattes and reading new fiction.

And now it is again Monday afternoon, and Aiden is out the window (shirt on), swinging the sledgehammer, and you know, instantly, that what you need are boots, beautiful, expensive, sexy boots.

Mira! Here is the Pointure by Stuart Weitzman, the super hot pointy-toed tall boots that are undeniably irresistible.

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

Dear Manolo,

I’ve been invited to an outdoor wedding in upstate New York next weekend. I hate to be cold, so I’m planning on wearing a woolen skirt and heavy tights, and I need boots to go with them. The problem is I’m four months pregnant and my feet have swollen to gigantic proportions. Please help.

Bridget

Manolo says, the outdoor upstate wedding at the end of October? The Manolo sincerely hopes that there is the barn nearby to which the wedding party and guests can retreat when the frosty rain begins.

Actually, the weather is also frequently spectacular during this time of the year, with the leaves changing their colors, and the farmers harvesting their traditional crops of Indian corn and jack-o-lanterns.

Of the course, the Manolo hopes that the festivities will fully partake of the Ichabod-Crane, Sleepy-Hollow-ish spirit of bucolic fun that is available in that part of the country in October. Perhaps instead of the first dance, the bride and groom can bob for the apples.

Look here is the Jumper from Sudini, the handsome, low-heeled, moderately-priced, toe-cap tall boot available in the wide sizes for the girl with the wide feets.

Manolo says, finally the Apepazza shoes are being made available in America. And look, here is the very attractive Cefeo boot.

Perfect for the chilly October night out on the town, and best accessorized with something tall, dark, and hunkarrific

Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back in the office, where the tension is thicker than the sopa de chicharo and twice as salty.

This destructive uncertainty and madness was not what you expected when you went into the investment banking so many years ago. Indeed, the recruiter at your college assured you that it would be just like sitting under the money tree and waiting for the shower of golden fruits.

But now, ayyyyyy! People are running around like the chickens with the heads taken off, smelling strongly of panic and fallen portfolios.

And you, yourself, you have the terrible insomnia, and spend every free second obsessively flipping through the business news channels, furiously texting rumors back and forth with your co-workers.

Have you heard the latest? The CFO has been placed on the suicide watch. It turns out that when he had prepped at Choate he had mercilessly, ruthlessly, bullied the younger boy, whose name he has just remembered: Ben “Stinky Pinky” Bernanke.

Ayyyy! Disastre!

You need to go immediately to your personal happy thoughts place, full of pastel-colored candy rainbows and chocolate unicorns. And shoes, beautiful expensive wonderful shoes, like these pointy-toed, patent leather boots from Christian Louboutin.

Yes, the purchase of those boots seems impossible, but have faith, the sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar!