Manolo says, one of the Manolo’s dear internet friends has asked him the question.
I have just received an invitation to present a paper in Helsinki this summer at a conference on the laws of war. This means that I shall be the only twenty-something-year-old female in a hall full of big, gruff, snarly, manlymen. Since genetic constitution and chromosomal make-up render it impossible for me to project an image of gruff, snarly, girlitude, I prefer to present myself as both a lover and a fighter. Could you please recommend a pair of show-stopping shoes that would convey this image?
(1) Price and heel altitude are distant seconds to superfantasticness.
(2) I think it’s time for me to buy my first Manolos.
If you decide to post this query, could you please leave my name out? Muchisimas gracias!
With warmest wishes from frosty NYC,
Manolo says, mucho-macho, snarly, gruffy-huffy, law-of-war manly men? In Finland?
Oy, to the Manolo this does not sound like fun. Indeed, it sounds as if the Manolo’s nameless friend is riding out to the annual Mongol Golden Horde company picnic, featuring all the roast badger and curdled mares’ milk you can eat, followed by the spirited game of “Kick the Head”.
In this case, she should do as the Manolo does when forced to participate in the strange native rites, behave as if you were the eccentric 19th century British explorer.
Be polite, be friendly, be sympathetic, but make it clear to the cannibalistic savages, through your dress and your comportment, that you represent the superior culture, one which offers these benighted souls the benefits of indoor plumbing and the afternoon tea.
Thus, when the lawyers of war offer you the drink of honeyed mead in the polished skull of their slain-in-battle senior partner, you must sip politely, and smilingly promise them, in your best Queen’s English, that you will return soon with the Royal Navy gunboat and destroy their God-forsaken way of life.
Of the course, in the meantime, the Manolo’s friend must dress in the manner that shows them that she is the powerful and important person in her own culture, one who must not be trifled with (or, at the least, one who must not be cut up and tossed into the bubbling cauldron of lunch.)
What better way to do this than with the aggressively beautiful shoes?
Here are two classic pairs of the Maestro Manolo Blahnik’s shoes that one should not live without.
Either in the mid-heel or the high-heel, in the dark brown or the black, these shoes are serious enough for the everyday work, and yet, kick-ass enough to quell the native insurrection.
If one truly wishes to leave the savages speachless, however, then the Manolo suggests these slightly less practical pumps from the Christian Louboutain.
Expected reaction: “Ooooooh, shiny! Lawyer Grog think pretty lady in glittery snake shoes have mighty mojo. Must listen attentively to presentation.”