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As a graphic artist, I pretty much judge a film within the first minute … that’s right, the opening credits. If there is a good, artistic and relevant opening credit sequence then I settle in with my popcorn and have high hopes for the film. If the opening sequence is a clusterf*ck, well, nine times out of ten I find I am disappointed with the flick. This movie started with a beautiful and elegant kaleidoscope sequence which swirled more and more dramatically until it finally faded into the first image still of the movie. It was really lovely and set a good beginning tone for what was to be a terrific and beautifully shot film.
I hadn’t seen her for years – almost five to be exact. We had always shared one of those easy, comfortable reports where the minutes flicked by swiftly in a haze of laughter. But it had been years, and I must admit I was nervous to see her.
As I waited, I found myself settling into a comfortable chat with one on New York’s Finest. He asked, ‘Are you a designer or a photographer? I would guess a photographer because that is one big camera.’
‘No one,’ I said. ‘I am no one special, just a guest.’
As he tries to flatter me with an ‘everyone is someone’ sentiment, out walks Kristy – down the marble steps of Lincoln Center. I recognize her immediately and say to my new uniformed friend, ‘Now, my friend there, she … she is someone.’
Even though Orson Welles is the opittamy of d*bagerry and you just want to smack him repeatedly the entire film. And Claire Dane’s character, Sonja, believes that the only way to get ahead in life as a woman is to sleep around … I would still recommend this movie for the sheer beauty of the photography, exquisite costumery/attention to detail, and for the killer jazz/ragtime soundtrack. Where does one even go about finding this music? Does itunes have an old-time jazz playlist?
Yes … yes! It happened. It really happened. I need to keep pinching myself.
I don’t know about you, but I love when Fashion Week rolls around. I know it must be stemming from my two years in grad school a la NYU – which was situated across the street from Bryant Park aka the old site of Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. I loved to walk outside after class and see the models, the celebrities, the fashion and the photographers. I loved the whole hullabaloo. And trust me, one day I will be welcomed into those glorious tents. But alas, until that day, I happily soak in the sights from afar and become inspired {graphical speaking} by my fellow artists {those who design in clothe rather than pixels}. Mr. Posen’s collection is slightly darker and more dramatic than I normally lean – but darlings, I just could not stop looking at these pics. Enjoy. Feast away. I know I did.
