The Manolo Matrix Read Online Free PDF
Author: Julie Kenner
neighborhood.
One glance, and I could tell this was a take-no-prisoners kind of lover.
“What’s up?” Mel had been testing lipsticks on the back of her hand, and now she joined us, rubbing a tissue over skin that looked like it had been decorated with war paint.
Brian gave her the Cliffs Notes version of my dilemma, and Mel turned to inspect the woman, whose back was now to us. After a second, Mel shrugged. “I can’t get a good look, but if she’s giving you the creeps, let’s get out of here.”
Since I thought that idea was just nifty, I led the way, with Mel and Brian following. We circled around, then headed up the escalator to the main level. Along the way, we passed the dozens of Swarovski crystals suspended from the ceiling and twinkling in the store’s lighting scheme. That piece is the epitome of Bergdorf’s, all class and light and elegance. It’s supposed to be the northern lights or something, but to me, it’s just fabulous whatever it is.
I turned back once, ostensibly to give one last glance to the crystal sculpture, but really to see if Bird Girl was following. Since I didn’t see her, I led my troops up the escalator, which opened right in front of one little corner of heaven—the Manolo Blahnik shoe display.
I glanced around again, and was pleased to see that my new best friend was still nowhere to be found.
Probably testing lip gloss a few floors down. I took five steps forward and paused right in front of the center display. Then I just stood there for a bit and drooled.
I’ve had a thing for Manolo shoes ever since a friend gave me a print of one of his sketches (“him” being
Manolo Blahnik, not my friend). The sketch was of this totally off-the-wall shoe that he designed for
Madonna. I hung it on my bathroom wall, along with some others I managed to snag on eBay.
Page 16
Once I had a sketch, I had to own a shoe, too, and let me tell you, if the goal of a fine shoe is to make a woman’s foot look sexy and her leg look stunning, then these shoes do the job in spades.
I own three pairs, but only one was bought new. (I got a hundred-dollar tip one night and decided that was a sign.
Two days and half my savings account later, and the shoes were mine.) The other two were also eBay finds, and amazing bargains at that. All told, I’ve spent over a grand on those three pairs of shoes. But they were worth every penny, because I wasn’t just buying shoes; I was buying a life change. They’re the best things that ever happened to my legs. Really. Tons better than Pilates or kick-boxing. (Slight exaggeration, but I’m trying to make a point.) And I really do get more attention from the male of the species when I’m wearing them. Trust me. I’ve kept a log.
I’ve been a Manolo fiend since long before Carrie Bradshaw sang their praises onSex and the City. I
haven’t, however, bought a new pair in over eight months. Finances too tight, and I can’t justify asking my mom and dad for money to buy shoes. And although I love each and every shoe in my current footwear collection, the truth is, it’s hopelessly out of season. And even though I’d never completely abandon the precious pairs I’d stored lovingly in my closet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was sorely tempted to break out my credit card. Especially for the little aquamarine kitten-heeled thong decorated with flowers on each leather strap.
“Go ahead,” a little devil whispered in my ear. “You know you want to.”
I turned to scowl at the devil—her name was Mel. “Ido want to. But I don’t want to turn to a life of crime, and that’s what I’d have to do in order to pay the bill.” For the record, Bergdorf’s isn’t exactly a discount venue for Manolo’s. And as much as I wished it wasn’t, $495 was a little rich for my blood. (Of
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
course, I could be lusting after the $2500 pair of alligator pumps. By comparison,
One glance, and I could tell this was a take-no-prisoners kind of lover.
“What’s up?” Mel had been testing lipsticks on the back of her hand, and now she joined us, rubbing a tissue over skin that looked like it had been decorated with war paint.
Brian gave her the Cliffs Notes version of my dilemma, and Mel turned to inspect the woman, whose back was now to us. After a second, Mel shrugged. “I can’t get a good look, but if she’s giving you the creeps, let’s get out of here.”
Since I thought that idea was just nifty, I led the way, with Mel and Brian following. We circled around, then headed up the escalator to the main level. Along the way, we passed the dozens of Swarovski crystals suspended from the ceiling and twinkling in the store’s lighting scheme. That piece is the epitome of Bergdorf’s, all class and light and elegance. It’s supposed to be the northern lights or something, but to me, it’s just fabulous whatever it is.
I turned back once, ostensibly to give one last glance to the crystal sculpture, but really to see if Bird Girl was following. Since I didn’t see her, I led my troops up the escalator, which opened right in front of one little corner of heaven—the Manolo Blahnik shoe display.
I glanced around again, and was pleased to see that my new best friend was still nowhere to be found.
Probably testing lip gloss a few floors down. I took five steps forward and paused right in front of the center display. Then I just stood there for a bit and drooled.
I’ve had a thing for Manolo shoes ever since a friend gave me a print of one of his sketches (“him” being
Manolo Blahnik, not my friend). The sketch was of this totally off-the-wall shoe that he designed for
Madonna. I hung it on my bathroom wall, along with some others I managed to snag on eBay.
Page 16
Once I had a sketch, I had to own a shoe, too, and let me tell you, if the goal of a fine shoe is to make a woman’s foot look sexy and her leg look stunning, then these shoes do the job in spades.
I own three pairs, but only one was bought new. (I got a hundred-dollar tip one night and decided that was a sign.
Two days and half my savings account later, and the shoes were mine.) The other two were also eBay finds, and amazing bargains at that. All told, I’ve spent over a grand on those three pairs of shoes. But they were worth every penny, because I wasn’t just buying shoes; I was buying a life change. They’re the best things that ever happened to my legs. Really. Tons better than Pilates or kick-boxing. (Slight exaggeration, but I’m trying to make a point.) And I really do get more attention from the male of the species when I’m wearing them. Trust me. I’ve kept a log.
I’ve been a Manolo fiend since long before Carrie Bradshaw sang their praises onSex and the City. I
haven’t, however, bought a new pair in over eight months. Finances too tight, and I can’t justify asking my mom and dad for money to buy shoes. And although I love each and every shoe in my current footwear collection, the truth is, it’s hopelessly out of season. And even though I’d never completely abandon the precious pairs I’d stored lovingly in my closet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was sorely tempted to break out my credit card. Especially for the little aquamarine kitten-heeled thong decorated with flowers on each leather strap.
“Go ahead,” a little devil whispered in my ear. “You know you want to.”
I turned to scowl at the devil—her name was Mel. “Ido want to. But I don’t want to turn to a life of crime, and that’s what I’d have to do in order to pay the bill.” For the record, Bergdorf’s isn’t exactly a discount venue for Manolo’s. And as much as I wished it wasn’t, $495 was a little rich for my blood. (Of
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
course, I could be lusting after the $2500 pair of alligator pumps. By comparison,
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