For the past month, my husband has been in Silicon Valley working on a  business project. Next week, I’ll be joining him for a weeklong vacation in San Francisco and Napa Valley. I’m not sure what to wear.  —Monica

Manolo says, for the Manolo, who is of the certain age, whenever  someone says they are going to San Francisco, the Manolo thinks “be sure to wear some flowers in the hair.”

But then the Manolo remembers that putting the flowers in the hair to  go to the San Francisco is like dancing the Lindy Hop or wearing the coonskin cap to watch the Sunday-night television programming; the artifact of the distant past, poorly remembered and perhaps better forgotten. (Ayyyy! The Manolo just looked it up! That song came out 46 years ago this week, in 1967, when the earth was still young and nubile.)

Now the days, when one thinks of San Francisco, one is more likely to think of the unpleasant, shallow-chested billionaires — the plague of  the modern era — who believe they should rule the world from the front  seat of their all-electric Google cars.

“If you are going to Silicon Valley,
Be sure to vest some options in your stock.
If you are going to Silicon Valley,
You’re going to meet some awful people there.”

You will want to wear the sandals. Here is Eleni from Pour la Victoire ($215,, which will be sufficiently, defiantly bohemian.