SCENE: the biannual Manolo Blahnik sample sale at the Warwick Hotel.
ENTER, André Leon Talley — the man near Anna Wintour in the top Vogue echelon, America’s Next Top Model catchphrase-smith, giant icon of fashion.
(NEW YORK POST WRITER holds two pairs of the designer shoes: lime-green sandals and black evening shoes.)
ANDRÉ: Darling, darling… no, no, no… Read More
Wake up, girls! This is the dawning of a new era. It’s time to get serious. The age of Obama has no place for superficial broads who spend all day ironing their hair, blowing their credit on status handbags and coveting bunion-mangling shoes.
In the super-earnest, cash-strapped America of today, you Read More
Sarah Michelle Gellar met her bestie, shoe designer Manolo Blahnik, on a rainy Manhattan day at Bergdorf.
In the February issue of Radar, the 30-year-old actress—whose next film, Possession, will be released at the end of February—sets the scene: “One day, a couple friends and I went into Bergdorf Read More
“The big elephant in the room is ‘Sex and the City,’” said a woman at the Rubin Museum of Art last Wednesday. She was speaking to the photographer Eric Boman, who is a close friend of the shoe designer Manolo Blahnik.
Mr. Boman had delivered a talk about the still life portraits he’s made Read More
You crazy little fool! You careened around town in spike heels for years without any regard to the consequences. You had a vague idea that you were damaging your reputation, but you had no idea that you were damaging something far more important: your feet! Let’s face it, you were too plastered to register anything Read More
Don’t you think that the urban shoe-aholic-that contemporary chick with the mania for purchasing vast numbers of trampy, strappy shoes and then talking about them ad nauseam-has become a teensy bit of a cliché? This inescapable modern archetype, jump-started by the excesses of ex–Miss Manila Imelda Marcos and subsequently made groovy by actress (and mom!) Read More
They’re putting bows on clothes again. Bows are alighting everywhere, like locusts: ends of sleeves, tips of shoes, bringing up the rear of a big puffy skirt. It may be “pretty,” but it isn’t good. Bows belong on presents, not on New York women.
Try to buy a simple black pump these days and bam, Read More
Foxy Brown, the fashionable, tart-tongued rap diva, couldn’t walk. She’d bought a pair of $750 snakeskin Manolo Blahnik stilettos with straps that slithered all the way up her calves, making her look like a marriage between a Roman philosopher and Linda Lovelace. “The sexiest, fiercest thing around,” she said. But her heels were wobbling and Read More
July 23. Dear Diary: C’est moi , Phyllis Stine. C’est moi . Remember you read it here first: The Eurostar is not for ladies with heavy baggage. Finalement , am on board and settled down enough to scribble thusly, but what an ordeal! Who knew you can’t check your bags at the Gare du Nord? Read More
Some see a wildly expensive feathered sandal and think, ‘Why?’ I see a pink Prada clog on sale and think, ‘Why not?’
Suddenly it’s shoe paradise out there. You’re walking down Madison Avenue on a torrid day and you see scantily clad ladies, cute pooches, new real estate developments. I see shoes. Shoes I’m Read More
