when i first cut my teeth on the fine art of shoe-appreciation, manolo was just hitting the scene. sex and the city was prolly a script on some executive's desk. i was teetering in heels and i was making my way.

someday, yes one day, i would wear my very own pair of manolo blahniks i imagined. i eventually bought that pair, a few years later, in a boutique on manhattan's upper west side. it was a sensible little milky turquoise suede d'Orsay pump with a kiltie detail at the pointed toe. mmmmm. "i'm looking smart in these shoes," i beamed internally.

i took them home. i set them out. i admired them from both near and far. that is until the day, after having gone out just long enough for a coffee drink, i returned home to the wagging tail of my bull mastiff WITH MY MANOLO IN. HIS. CHOMPERS. "Tucker!!!!!!!," i screeched. he was happy to see me. the only good thing out of that day was the newfangled appreciation i had for footwear. i saw their insides after all. heel construction. the guts of the last. that manolo makes a one heck of a shoe.

i've shied away from "the manolo" ever since. once the initial shock wore off, and it did, i've learned to harbor no ill-will towards the pooch who destroyed them. as i've matured i find i like my shoes with a little more sass. as luck would have it on this fine hump day (still my fave!) my shuzmuse sent me a link to "Aniro" at neiman marcus [1] a SMOKIN' HOT PAIR of patent leather, peep-toe pumps in a devilish black and tantalizing red. their 4 1/2" heel says S-E-X. and they are calling my name. oooohhh! Mister Manolo, you have totally outdone yourself!

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