Lost in Translation has got to be one of my most favorite movies. Not only is it directed by one of my favorite and most fashionably sensible directors to have ever shunned Hollywood for the better sartorial environments of New York and Paris, it's got a subtle humor that not all people can relate to. Charlotte's backside as the random first scene? Good. A Japanese man randomly named Charlie Brown? GOOD. Random "entertainment" girl sent up to Bob's room playing coquettish? ABSOLUTELY GENIUS. It's the helter-skelter regardlessness that gets to me.
That's what's been inspiring me as of late (nothing could be better than a Coppola film to stir the senses). It's a good thing I've decided to resort to
revoir-ing my favorite films this week; I've been mad sketching and working on my portfolio in an insane fashion. Oh, but I love it.
I sincerely hate it when boys wear pink. Most of the time, they don't even like the color, but really, they're trying to "make a statement" and they somehow feel as if they need to prove their manhood by showing how comfortable they are when wearing a feminine color.
I apologize for the unexpected hiatus. Studies are a lose-lose situation; they're boring and time-consuming. But due to my blogging withdrawal, I predict I'll be posting a lot more as my expectedly adventurous summer begins. I have a lot of street photos saved but I have yet to organize them. On a sartorial note, I just bought an unnecessary amount of graphic t-shirts, one of them being this clever little spoof:
Oh, I do love making a fashion + political statement at the same time.
