With the re-re-release of Michael Jackson’s funk-noir masterwork, Thriller, who can forget the perfectly glam-casual attire of Jackson during this period? His white-suit, black-shirt combination on the album cover (oddly a set of polar opposites his life would ultimately pivot around) and the tight black trousers of Billy Jean were a kind of re-awakening of prom-night cool. However, surely the most iconic garment to emerge from the visual cacophony was the glittering white socks from Billie Jean.
Jackson’s jack-ups pulled socks back into focus as an essential part of any outfit. Socks have had a varied and interesting part to play in the history of fashion. Just like the shameless European tourists of today, the Romans used to wear socks with sandals, the soccus remaining for use inside, so as not ruin all of those polished marble floors, presumably. In the 19th Century, men became the prominent sock-wearers, after the shared gender representation of the sock-stocking in the vast interim. As a strange sort of tribute to the death of Albert in 1861, Victorian men wore black socks, ensuring the colour was the most popular worn throughout the industrial revolution.
There used to be a debate in our home about just how out of fashion Swaine Adeney Brigg really is. I won that debate, as it happens, and the answer is ‘exceedingly’, but in the best possible way. It’s not every shop that can resist the lure to ‘keep up’ and manages to do so while being always impeccably in style.
Since 1750, SAB has been purveyors of fine equestrian leather goods and umbrellas. Do you find yourself in need of a new Hunting Horn or maybe a Plaited Leather Handle Fly Whisk? SAB should be your first stable of call. In addition to lots of neat things like that that most of will never need are many things that all of us do need, though likely only once or twice in a lifetime. I’m thinking about their superb leather suitcases and attaché cases that last more than your lifetime. (more…)
Gentry offers a week’s worth of interesting diversions in the world of cinema, pop and art & culture…
The Film: BLACK WATER Directed by David Nerlich & Andrew Trauki with Diana Glenn, Maeve Dermondy, Andy Rodoreda
Every once in a while Australia produces a particularly nasty little film. In 2000 in was the slash-happy Chopper, in 2005 we were happily subjected to the sinister road movie nightmare Wolf Creek, and this week we’re given an even more edgy slice of antipodean anxiety with the crocodile chiller Black Water. This low-fi movie perfectly exploits the simple, tense pleasures of horror: think Open Water but creepier, with shadowy beasts swooshing beneath the murk of an outback swamp. The characters are involving, even thoughtful and the mesmeric scenario ensures the film never slips too far either way of the fatal edge that is its central attraction. An undemanding but thoroughly successful genre piece, Black Water is a perfectly formed, thrilling excursion into the leathery heart of darkness.
The Record: EL GUINCHO – ALEGRANZA! Discoteca Oceano
A smile is a beautiful thing - an unconscious burp from your soul’s inner depths, an escaped dream pleasantly parting with fantasy, breaking onto the surface of reality. A grin is a reminder of the relationship between the physical and emotional world that a human being (yes, you!) wobbles constantly between. Like it or not, we’re largely only defined by what people see. We meet more people than we know and it’s undeniable that we’re glanced at by more people than we’ll ever meet. In fact, most people who see you will never speak to you, will never introduce themselves: the woman pressed up against you on the tube: the besuited masses you pass on the busy streets; the lonely old man you avoid in the changing rooms – the only perceptions these people will ever have of you is the look on your face as you glide by, momentarily part of their lives. Give them something to see, flash them a smile.
The crushing realities of living are enough to wipe the smile from any of our faces. But,
The only thing ‘epic’ about this venture is the vastness of its preposterousness. Russell Crowe grins and gurns his way through an array of bad accents and lurid emotional churning. Both less exciting than Ben Hur and less impressive than Spartacus, Crowe is somewhat out of his depth and even his commendable, natural Aussie surliness cannot mask his ultimately floppy centre. Joaquin Phoenix is impossibly wrong as the sister-hungry Commodus (a name which conjures images of Imperial incontinence), not to mention the strange digitally enhanced performance of the expired Oliver Reed. This is an oddly sinister film in which the hero is a barbarian invader, his mentor a slave trader and the arch-villain an incestuous psychopath. So, sure, what’s not to like? It looks great and Ridley Scott builds worlds like other people cook sausages, but even the stunning and innovative CGI-fired set design isn’t enough to save the chewy, anti-climactic script.
Cringe with me:
4. West Side Story (1961)
Gang violence never had it so good. I’m sorry, I know this film is a lot of fun and one sequence in particular – the scene around the song ‘America’ – is stunningly iconic, but, it cannot possibly have been the best film of 1961. In fact, I can assure you it wasn’t. West Side Story was up against Robert Rossen’s The Hustler. It is a travesty that this soft pedalled, misleading flash and dazzle twirl-fest was allowed anywhere near the same category as the classic movie depicting the compelling self-destruction of Paul Newman’s ‘Fast’ Eddie. So why does Hollywood do this to us? Why does it punish us for believing in a meritocracy? Not only is West Side Story a second-rate film, it is a botched one. Robert Wise was only brought in to direct once Jerome Robbins (who directed the Broadway incarnation of the tale) was fired for his over-meticulous preparations. His scenes remain far more energetic than those forged by Wise, a filmmaker way outside his comfort zone.
Ah, but here’s that great scene anyway!:
3. Chicago (2002)
Another musical – a genre that should be banned from the Oscars along with racist snuff movies and (more…)
Film has always been attracted by the possibilities of its own image, defining and re-defining moods and modes, styles and fashions in a playful, unusually discursive way. The overriding texture and impression of an era is often synonymous with the icons of the period. Think of Rudolph Valentino and Douglas Fairbanks Sr. in the 1920s, Clark Gable and Errol Flynn in the 30s, Humphrey Bogart and James Stewart in the 40s, Rock Hudson and Marlon Brando in the 50s, Alain Delon and Marcello Mastroianni in the 60s, Warren Beatty and Edward Fox in the 70s, Richard Gere and Tom Cruise in the 80s, Brad Pitt and George Clooney in the 90s. Tailored to perfection, buoyed by their own charisma, these cultural icons stand on both sides of the mirror, looking good. Below is our pick of the Top 5 most stylish, inspirational actors in their most elegant incarnations. What do you think? Let us know your own contenders in the comments section. And if you’re in need of a new style, you know where to go…
1. Richard Gere – American Gigolo
Quite simply, no-one has ever looked smoother than Richard Gere in Paul Schrader’s glaring film about the male escort industry. He sashays his way through the movie, enslaved by his own searing sexual appeal. Defined by a sly athleticism and self regarding arrogance, the scene where Gere prepares for a night out is beautifully voyeuristic and one of the most mechanically pleasurable scenes committed to film.
2. Warren Beatty Shampoo
Beatty’s poodlish bouffant, open-necked shirts and paint-on jeans combine for a look that Russell Brand seems to have transposed wholesale into his own rakish style. But Beatty gives these otherwise (more…)
Inspired by the film classic The Third Man, Caron’s titular fragrance also goes by the names ‘Number 3’ and ‘Le 3me’. Drawing upon the unpredictable and irrepressible, avant-garde flair of Orson Welles, Caron’s 1985 elegant, smooth aroma has been blended in the flickering magic of the movie beam. The cinema screen is a projection of desires, of aspirations and dreams, and it is no surprise that other creative industries should be captivated by the magnetism of the medium – just recall Cindy Sherman’s melodramatic photography or Miles Davis’ real and unreal scores. Individual films, beyond their own generic classification, are ‘a style’ in a very different sense. They are a mélange of music, image and performance – as much an indefinable coming together of essences as any carefully procured perfume. The seduction of Caron by the beguiling élan of Harry Lime and his irredeemable but awe-inspiring character smells of a conceptual richness that befits both industries.
“If you teach a poor young man to shave himself, and keep his razor in order, you may contribute more to the happiness of his life than in giving him a thousand guineas.” – Benjamin Franklin
Hair grows out of your face, so persistently that you have to scythe it off with something sharp enough to slit your own throat. With the recent release of Sweeney Todd, the blatant terrors of the shave have never been more in the public eye. But there’s nothing to fear, not really. At Murdock there are safer hands than the trembling, vengeful mitts of Benjamin Barker. In fact, shaving is a strangely luxuriant, invigorating ritual, it’s the grooming equivalent of pulling up your socks or rolling up your sleeves – shaving means business, energising a kind of innate professionalism like nothing else. There is a distinct joy in the daily taming of the wild man that lurks beneath, or, even better, teasing out just enough stubble to allow it to think it’s on the verge of victory, before a deeply restorative smoothing of the skin.
The straight razor shave adds the gentleman’s touch to your morning routine. This method of shaving stretches back to the Iron Age, when men, desperate to disassociate themselves from their furry wives, would use bronze or flint to scrape their beard away. Even earlier incarnations would be made from clam shells or shark’s teeth, leaving the alluring aroma of fish stink. The razor as we might recognize it was introduced in ancient Rome by king Lucius Tarquinius Priscus a hundred years before such grooming tools were common use. The razor was, in truth primitive andLucius would often be found clutching his face and rolling on the ground, a tradition still practiced today by arch-Romanista Francesco Totti. Interestingly, it wasn’t until 1740 that the first hard steel grade was commercially produced, by Benjamin Huntsmen of Sheffield. Daily shaving is relatively recent as a common practice, introduced by American men in the 20th century, desperate to give a false impression of prosperity during the Great depression. In the 18th and 19th centuries, it was far more common to receive a weekly shave, usually on a Sunday – a delicate, civilized procedure by a servant if you were wealthy enough or a far less accurate slice in the back alley of a gambling house if you were at the other end of the social scale. Easily slipped behind the trouser belt and readily available, the straight razor was also often used as a particularly unfriendly instrument.
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