Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
At the end of July I’m going to a big deal wedding in Atlanta. I’ve already picked out my dress, a muted floral with a generally light peach tone, but now I need a pair of shoes to go with. What do you suggest?
Manolo says, ayyyy! Hotlanta in July! Fiddle-dee-dee and thank goodness for the invention of the air conditioning!
And now the Manolo must admit that despite his many visits to the Atlanta he does not fully understand this city. On the one of the hands, Atlanta seems as Southern as Southern can be, at every turn celebrating it’s historic Southern heritage with as much enthusiasm as any place in America. Indeed, it is difficult to escape from the club of Gone-With-the Wind Southerness with which the city attempts to beat the unsuspecting visitor over the head.
And yet, on the other of the hands, whenever the Manolo visits Atlanta he seems to encounter only the transplanted Yankees and their progeny.
“We moved here from Boston in ’92, y’all” said the lady in Lennox Square Mall, “My brotha came down in ’94.”
And yet, on the third of the hands, Atlanta is indisputably the world-class city of entertainment and business, the home of Coca-Cola, CNN, and Elton John.
It is all so confusing.
Look! Here is the Whirl from the Stuart Weitzman, the strappy sandal in the oyster color that will allow your dress to shine in the Hotlanta sun.