Download the PDF A visit to the madcap world of Manolo Blahnik
by Michael Specter
The first thing I noticed when I entered the two-hundred-year-old town house in Bath that serves as Manolo Blahnik's weekend retreat was the alligator. About three and a half feet long, with olive-brown skin and black hatch marks flecking its body, it was sprawled imperiously across a Queen Anne table at the end of the foyer. The jaws were parted, and the teeth shimmered in the fading light. Read more »
Download the PDF A dealer sets out to give his business a better name.
by Michael Specter
When I first visited the city of Antalya, on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey, four years ago, the streets near the Old Town's twelfth-century minaret were filled with carpet salesmen. They advertised themselves by shouting in German, English, Russian, and Turkish–any language that they thought might work. Read more »
Michael Specter has been a staff writer at The New Yorker since 1998.
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