I think I’ve discovered what gets into professional, well-educated, usually composed women when they sniff out a pair of pointy-toed, strappy-heeled bits of Italian leather. It’s called Manolo Madness.

I tell you, I’ve been to my fair share of sample sales, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to one like the Manolo Blahnik preview I just came back from. I mean, wow.
Held in a second floor meeting room in Midtown Manhattan’s Warwick Hotel, the sale is broken up into two phases: a Friends of Manolo deal (not the actual name of the pre-preview sale) that starts at 9am, and a preview for the press that starts at 11am.
I have a friend, so I was a Friend this morning — and friendship (or was it Manolo Madness?) got me out of bed at twilight it seemed. But still I wasn’t early enough. Peeps had rolled up at 6am, some even earlier than that to score a coveted, first-look ticket stamped “A”, and these FoMs were restless.

When the doors opened, a polite stampede ensued as fashionistas squeezed through the doorway three at a time to fill the oversized shopping bags they’d brought along to more easily collect the massive amounts of shoes they wanted to try on. And I was one of them, alternately jamming as many pairs of the styles I’ve seen on Carrie Bradshaw, JLo and the runway in seasons past as I could into my canvas shopper, and holding up my lightly-scuffed, “Vogue closet”-stickered choices with pride.
Did you see the first picture up top? There were about six more tables just like it, and still there wasn’t enough for us insatiable FoMs as some left the Warwick shoeless and dejected. I got my fix though — a pair of purple lace-ups — as did my girl, Tracee who scored these “Ta-da Tartans.”

As I stare at my new booties, I feel a little sick. I mean, did I really need another pair of pricey purple shoes? But then, the Madness washes over me anew as a Mona Lisa smile touches my lips. Mwah-ha-ha-ha! Of course, I did — and I’m mad for these too.