BCP: Read Truman Capote’s original novel, and bemoan the happy Hollywood ending of the movie. Tell your captivated audience that Capote had wanted Marilyn Monroe to play Holly Golightly. He saw the character as grittier, sexier, and more vulnerable.
My Fair Lady—The original Pretty Woman guttersnipe-toglamorama transformation story.
FHM: The black-and-white checkerboard dresses during the Ascot race scene.
BCP: My Fair Lady is inspired by George Bernard Shaw’s play Pygmalion, which was in turn based on the Greek myth of . . . you guessed it, Pygmalion.
The Graduate—Erotic story of a young, innocent college grad, played by Dustin Hoffman, who’s unsure of his life path, and in his attempt to find himself, he instead finds sensual sex lessons with an older woman named Mrs. Robinson, his mother’s friend. Then he falls for Mrs. Robinson’s lovely daughter.
FHM: The bride in her wedding dress on a bus to nowhere.
BCP: Katharine Ross also starred in another fashionista fave, The Stepford Wives. And anytime an older woman is with a younger man, you can refer to the seductress as Mrs. Robinson, making a clever allusion to the classic film.
Rear Window—A psychological thriller about one man’s obsession with his neighbor, who he suspects is a murderer and whom he watches through his apartment’s rear window.
FHM: Two words: Grace Kelly. When the polished, cool beauty pulls a nightie out of her tiny Kelly bag—all she needs for the evening.
BCP: Jimmy Stewart was the only one of Grace Kelly’s costars whom she allegedly did not sleep with. And anytime you want to indulge your inner spy (like when the guy you’re dating suddenly turns to you and says, “I can’t tell you what I’m doing because I don’t want to put you or other people in danger”), you can say you’re not in the mood to star in your own Hitchcock drama.
Shanghai Express—A dramatic love and war story that takes place on the Shanghai Express during the Civil War. Stars Marlene Dietrich.
FHM: Dietrich’s bold feather-embellished bolero jacket, fishnet veil, and sleek black leather gloves . . . for the office!
BCP: Marlene Dietrich is the most famous of the sapphic fashionistas. Yes, girls, she was a lipstick lesbian.
Rosemary’s Baby—A dark, creepy, mysterious, otherworldly Roman Polanski–directed piece, starring Mia Farrow, about a young couple living in Manhattan. Rosemary’s husband makes a deal with the devil to get his acting career off the ground—and uses his wife as the pawn.
FHM: Mia’s perfect bone structure, those darling baby-doll dresses, and the first time she reveals her new pixie haircut while having a nervous breakdown. Manic chic!
BCP: During the film, Mia Farrow’s character loses it. Her psychotic episodes seem so real. And that is because they were. Those scenes were filmed during a difficult, tumultuously emotional time for her—when her real-life love, Frank Sinatra, dumped her. Also, he reportedly hated her haircut.
Butterfield 8—A classic melodramatic love story, adapted for the big screen from John O’Hara’s novel about a call girl (Elizabeth Taylor) with a sketchy past (“I was the slut at all times,” she purrs) and a wealthy, unhappily married lawyer.
FHM: Elizabeth Taylor at home in lingerie and high heels, with a cocktail.
BCP: The film brought Elizabeth her first Oscar—and she didn’t even want to take the role in the first place, but had to in order to fulfill her contract with MGM. Her Oscar nod turned her into the first $1-million-per-picture actress, which was what she was paid for her next role as Cleopatra, which bombed.
The Mod Squad—Three fabulously dressed and shagalicious people get in trouble with the cops, and to save their butts they go undercover to stop crime.
FHM: This is where Austin Powers got his inspiration. Space-age microdresses with opaque tights and all that was late-sixties cool.
BCP: Although the fashion is slammin’, it really wasn’t that great a film. And the Hollywood studios really shouldn’t have wasted their money to back the remake, which starred Claire Danes. It was more abominable than the first—and even the style department didn’t cut it.
Contemporary Flicks with Elaborate Wardrobes
Clueless—A frothy coming-of-age tale of love and high school in Beverly Hills, starring a well-dressed Alicia Silverstone as a trendoid teen named Cher.
FHM: There are many: 1. Cher’s two-story automated closet and computer “matching” program. 2. When being held up at gunpoint and asked to lie on the ground, Cher cries, “You don’t understand. This is an Alaia. He’s, like, a totally important designer!” 3. When she’s going on a date in a tight white slip dress and her father yells, “Cher, what is that?” She says, “A dress.” Dad says, “Says who?” She whines, “Calvin Klein.”
BCP: The aforementioned Alaia dress was donated to one of those Hollywood-theme chain restaurants. The aforementioned white dress was actually a Vivienne Tam. You can also remark on Alicia’s heavy animal-rights activism and the fact that it’s the only thing she seems to talk about. Move on to character-assassinate Jennifer Love Hewitt— just for fun.
Unzipped—Documentary on a season in the life of neurotic Jewish flaming fashionista designer Isaac Mizrahi.
FHM: The bandannas in his hair, the moment he confesses to his mother that he was obsessed with her daisy shoes when he was a little boy, and supermodel Linda Evangelista whining backstage about having to wear flats and then complaining, “My feet hurt and you don’t caaaare. . . .”
BCP: Astound everyone by telling them Nanook of the North, the film on which Isaac Mizrahi based his collection, was not a real documentary, per se. Some scenes (like the one where the Eskimo family eats the seal raw) were deliberately staged.
Pulp Fiction—Postmodern comic-book hipster fairy tale about drugs and violence.
FHM: Uma Thurman in a black wig doing “the Batman ”—the dance step that originated in 1966—with John Travolta. Also, her flat silver shoes.
BCP: Show them your “Bad Motherfucker” wallet.
Flashdance—A rise-to-stardom tale of a hot steel-welding small-town girl who becomes a modern dancer . . . and the man who believed in her all along.
FHM: When Jennifer Beals rips off her tuxedo jacket and reveals nothing but a slinky halter top, a bow tie, and Playboy bunny–style cuff links, while she seductively sucks meat out of a lobster tail. Thought we’d say that sweatshirt, didn’t you?
BCP: The loft Jennifer Beals lives in was the inspiration for “shabby chic.”
Legally Blonde—Elle Woods, a seemingly stupid blonde with a heart of gold, played by Reese Witherspoon, goes to Harvard Law School to get her man back . . . and finally discovers who she really is.
FHM: Elle and her Chihuahua, Brewster, in matching outfits; Elle and her marabou feather pen taking notes on a heart-shaped notebook the first day of class; Elle dressing as a Playboy bunny for what she thought was a costume party (and making the best of it when she realizes it was a joke to make her look stupid). Oh, we can go on.
BCP: The movie was based on Amanda Brown’s novel, which wasn’t published until two years after the movie was a blockbuster! Also, the film that established Reese as a bona fide $12-million-per-picture leading lady.
Down with Love—An ironic love story/period piece starring Renée Zellweger as the blond bombshell who wreaks social havoc by publishing a culture-shocking book about how women don’t need love and can have sex like a man—with no emotional ties. Many twists and turns and hilarious moments ensue.
FHM: The entire duration of the film! It’s styled to perfection, from the set (Renée’s “adorable” pink palace of an apartment epitomizes midcentury modern design) to her ladylike dresses and matching coats, hats, and gloves.
BCP: It was a very underrated film that truly marked a significant time for women in society. It also pays homage to the romantic comedies that Rock Hudson made with Doris Day in the late 1950s and early 1960s—Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back, and Send Me No Flowers. And that Ewan Mc-Gregor sure is yummy!
> Foreign and Indies
Foreign and indie flicks are a favorite of fashionistas because they are usually shown in small, out-of-the-way art cinemas (or art houses, as they’re aptly called) in obscure neighborhoods and frequented by a similarly groovy, fashion-minded, pseudo-intellectual crowd.
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg—Jacques Demy directs a twenty-year-old Catherine Deneuve in a sad-happy French musical.
FHM: When Catherine as Genevieve sings of her love for a lowly garage mechanic. (Mom was right—it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man.)
BCP: Catherine Deneuve was a muse of Yves Saint Laurent and never missed one of his shows in twenty years.
Breathless (À Bout de Souffle)—Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jean Seberg in the best nouvelle vague film of all time.
FHM: Jean-Paul’s black leather jacket. Jean Seberg’s nautical-striped boatneck shirt.
BCP: Tell everyone how you hated the Richard Gere version, which is a perfect segue for discussing how Travolta was a fool for not taking American Gigolo and how he hasn’t done a decent project since Pulp Fiction. Move on to bash Kevin Costner, who hasn’t had a decent picture since . . . who can remember?
Blowup—Michelangelo Antonioni’s film of fashion and murder and the sexy David Hemmings as a camera-clicking lothario. Grainy, gritty, documentary-like production set in swinging London. Supermodel Veruschka plays herself.
FHM: Zipping through London in David Hemming’s Aston Martin.
BCP: It’s rumored that Blowup was based on the life of the late fashionista shutterbug Francesco Scavullo. Also, Vanessa Redgrave was scorchingly fierce. You can sound smart by talking about how doing a British film was a nice departure for the Italian filmmaker, who went on to do Zabriskie Point, which featured a soundtrack from Pink Floyd.
La Dolce Vita—Fellini’s tale of dissolution and despair centering on the world of a gossip columnist.
FHM: Anytime Anouk Aimée and Anita Ekberg appear in a scene.
BCP: Tell everyone you’re writing a modern-adaptation rock opera of La Dolce Vita based on the reporters from Page Six.
Party Girl—Parker Posey as the early-nineties answer to Edie Sedgwick.
FHM: When she steals a Chanel suit at a party.
BCP: The film makes reference to the Greek myth of Sisyphus, which is such a postmodern and ironic story. Then you can say that it’s a shame that Parker Posey never gets to demonstrate her diversity as a performer. In every film she seems to play the same role, no matter if it’s a blockbuster like You’ve Got Mail or a small piece, like Best in Show. Then you can imitate Parker’s manic-bitch-cheerleader routine from Dazed and Confused. (“Fry like bacon, you freshman bitches!”)
Hedwig and the Angry Inch—Rock opera about a transsexual who suffers from a botched sex-change operation and a broken heart.
FHM: Every scene! Denim hot pants, bustiers, stilettos, glitter lipstick and eyeshadow, and Farrah Fawcett hair that just won’t quit. Oh, and we love Hedwig’s red paint– splattered fur jacket and when he freaks out on his bandmate, who has the audacity to stupidly put a bra in the dryer.
BCP: Hedwig started as an act John Cameron Mitchell would perform at the notorious gay nightclub Squeezebox. He also wrote and directed the film. You can talk about the difficulties of being a cult indie artist and how it’s a shame that Mitchell’s work will never achieve the status it truly deserves.
The Pedro Almodóvar Oeuvre
Pedro Almodóvar is the much-celebrated, Academy Award–winning Spanish filmmaking genius, who writes, directs, produces, composes, and sometimes acts. His work, no matter how twisted, loopy, dark, perverse, and sensual, embodies all human emotions and issues everyone can relate to. And he portrays women in a beautiful, powerful light. They are all strong, multileveled, psychologically complicated, semitortured, and fighting some kind of demon and conflict, physically or mentally, that they inevitably surmount. He loves drag queens, gays, alcohol-infused moments of giddy delirium, deviance, flamboyance, and the dark underbelly of society, the mind, and sexuality. His film All About My Mother is what got Penélope Cruz the kind of attention that turned her into an international starlet. Plus, we love his big, crazy hair and wacky wardrobe. And he had Antonio Banderas playing gay men long before the actor mainstreamed himself by doing Philadelphia with Tom Hanks.
Rent his greatest hits:
Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
High Heels
All About My Mother
Live Flesh
Talk to Her
BCP: Pedro, who left home at sixteen to pursue his dream of filmdom, used to draw X-rated comic books, wrote the memoirs of an imaginary porn star he called Patti di Phusa, and performed in a transvestite punk-rock band in his wild, early teenage years in Madrid.
The Baz Luhrmann Oeuvre
This eccentric Australian film director, known for his quick editing style, postmodernist pop-culture play, and elaborate sets and costume designs (created by his wife, who is, of course, his ultimate muse), is the mastermind behind three joyous fashionista favorites:
Strictly Ballroom—One man and his dream to be the number one ballroom dancer of Australia and the ugly duckling he turned into a dancing swan—who taught him a trick or two. Wacky. FHM: The tiered cancan dresses and major panty flashing.
Romeo + Juliet—The classic Shakespearean love story set in modern-day Los Angeles with a hip-hop sound track. Full of guns and Prada clothing. FHM: Claire Danes in a fluid white gown and angel wings.
Moulin Rouge—The postmodern parade of love and music. The “Elephant Love Medley” alone, which combines U2 with Paul McCartney and Jimmy Sommerville, is sooo good, it’s genius! And that “Like a Virgin” number! It’s beyond! FHM: Nicole Kidman’s eyebrows, which do the best acting in the movie.
Worth a note: Baz turned the classic opera La Bohème into a Broadway production in New York City, set in 1950s Paris. Baz’s wife created the multimillion-dollar set. The singers, a revolving cast of six leads, were sexy and young (read: not old and overweight). And there were subtitles. David Bowie, Iman, and Adrien Brody were spotted (by us) during one of the show’s previews.
BIG-SCREEN FASHION
Bonnie, Clyde, and a Babysitter KAREN
I was in eighth grade when I was first truly inspired by the power of cinema. Flashdance was all the rage. Jennifer Beals provoked an entire nation to cut up their sweatshirts and bust out the leg warmers. I had already been through my wanna-be-Olivia-Newton-John phase (even though Mom wouldn’t let me take on the vixen-in-spandex look of the “You’re the One That I Want” number). But those were flash-in-the-pan moments. While the off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and the vinyl catsuit left an indelible mark on fashion’s greatest hits, the trends those two starlets spurred were just that— trends. It was fashion, not style. But I didn’t know any better. Until one fateful night, when I was sleeping at my friend’s house and her older brother, a long-haired, AC/DC-loving, ripped-jeans-wearing, mustache-sporting, blond hottie all the girls had a crush on, was forced to babysit us (it was some sort of punishment for skipping school).
He wanted nothing to do with us. We hung out in my friend’s room for the most part. But the television blared so loudly from the living room, along with his random electric guitar riffs, that we had to see what he was watching. “Go away,” he barked as we approached the sofa. “Can’t we watch with you?” his sister begged. Some kind of argument ensued, but he finally agreed to share the common area of the house as long as we didn’t say a single word or ask one question. The film: Bonnie and Clyde, something I’m sure my parents would have deemed too violent for my young, impressionable mind.
Between scenes from random crime sprees across America’s heartland, I was mesmerized by a retro-looking Faye Dunaway. Her elegance. Her perfect lips. Her hair. Her tough-girl attitude. Her poor-boy sweaters, tweed skirts, and berets! Good God, she was amazing. I wanted to look just like her. The next
day I pilfered cable-knit sweaters and scarves from my mother’s closet and paired them with wool skirts and berets and newsboy caps, thinking I was all that. I fantasized that my friend’s brother was a fedora-wearing Clyde and that together we robbed 7-Elevens of Fun Dip and Jolly Ranchers. I wouldn’t wear anything unless I could imagine Bonnie in it. I was fascinated by 1930s fashion and a slightly dangerous, rebellious, yet glamorous lifestyle that was unlike anything I knew about in my small suburban town, where the wildest thing I had ever done was sneak outside at three A.M. with a friend to puff on a cigarette on the front lawn and borrow my mother’s clothes from time to time without her permission.
To me, Bonnie and Clyde was the epitome of cinematic drama. I didn’t even care what the film was about. It just represented such style and excitement, a life I craved. Until I saw The Breakfast Club— and started wearing a long brown skirt, riding boots, and a pink T-shirt, and bringing sushi to school every day.
Sid and Nancy and Me
MELISSA
The most miserable time of my life was my freshman year in high school. I suppose it couldn’t get any worse—in addition to the culture shock of having moved to the United States from the Philippines, I was awkward, overweight, and had terrifically bad hair. I didn’t have any friends. There was no hope of a boyfriend. To compensate, I became obsessed with the Sex Pistols.
Three skinny, dirty guys from England in the seventies who sang foulmouthed music, spit on their fans, did too many drugs, and vomited onstage! What was not to love? I was especially enamored of Sid Vicious, the misunderstood heroin addict and bass player. Like Sid, I fancied myself tortured, misunderstood, and very, very angry. Of course, I still made straight As and never even gave my parents a hint of trouble. While some of my cousins were sneaking around, climbing out the window and meeting their boyfriends, I was in bed by eleven, and spent all my free time reading.
When my best friend, Corrine, and I went to a Cure concert (Robert Smith was also tortured and misunderstood), we dyed our hair pink and silver. My dad drove us to the concert and picked us up afterward. We were rebels who relied on parental transportation! Corrine and I eagerly awaited the release of the Gary Oldman movie Sid and Nancy. When it came out, we walked the few blocks down to the Fillmore Theater and watched it with rapt attention. I remember the full-zipper pants (the zipper went all the way down Johnny’s crotch and up his butt), the plaid pants, the ripped T-shirts, the studded leather bracelets, the studded belts. I even coveted Sid’s hospital gown. It was so cool, hanging off his shoulders. I was infatuated with Nancy Spungen’s dyed canary-yellow hair, torn fishnets, and beat-up motorcycle jacket. I remembered the gash of red that passed for her lipstick. It looked like it hurt. I also liked the fact that unlike Sid, she had meat on her bones. She was nowhere near skinny.
The Fashionista Files Page 23