Actor Shailene Woodley: Picture of a Dignified Ingenue
Shailene Woodley, The Beautiful Ingenue. I almost fell off my chair when I spotted this 20-year-old while watching this year’s Oscars. (It was homework.) The gown is Valentino Couture, and reminds me of something a young Audrey Hepburn would wear. The rich cream, exceptional detail and quality of this dress was notable. Hair and makeup was kept soft and feminine, with the whole thing adding up to a picture of a elegant young woman, something that is rarely seen amongst the Hollywood crowd.
An assured, sexy woman many leagues away from matronly
On the other hand we have Glenn Close, who is the epitome of evolved sexiness. How she does it: This is a Zac Posen gown cut in a strategic, mermaid silhouette that is glamorous and alluring. The tuxedo jacket helps up the distinction and power of this look–and she is a woman who projects both. Both pieces are very structured and in a sophisticated color that incidentally works beautifully against the wearer’s silver hair. No glitter or sequins, which would not be consistent with her vibe or vintage.
Though the gown was a nice backdrop, what made Ms. Close stand out from the legions of other pretty young things on the red carpet was her confidence, poise and assured sexiness. Side note: I love that this is what 50-something is looking like these days.
Stefano Pilati is the head of Yves Saint Laurent with some wise words on elegance and how it can be cultivated:
My idea of elegance—and this refers to women as well as men—is that someone is elegant when he or she shows a good knowledge of what fits them, where you can find naturalness and self-esteem. Not showing off. Elegance is the idea of showing an optimistic depiction of oneself, and to lose oneself in the frivolity of style and fashion.
Read his entire interview with Vibe Magazine at http://www.vice.com/read/the-end-of-elegance-0000150-v19n2
On another note, the above image is a still from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Ms. Audrey Hepburn is known for her style, which always seemed so simple. And it was. The ballet dancer knew how to dress her body, with uncomplicated silhouettes. Here she is wearing a simple boatneck top, denim pants and a turban.
Whether wearing this, or something more dressed, her style always came from her manner, which was graceful and demure. An elegant, uncluttered voice. A girlish, slightly mysterious smile. And the way she walked–proud and strong, and a bit like a cat. There is a reason that Breakfast at Tiffany’s is filled with long- and medium-shots of her walking in the streets.
I came across a quote from Britney Spears, something about how she felt that she was Audrey Hepburn in a past life. Blasphemy, I thought.
You want, particularly on Valentine’s Day, the holidays’ ode to love, to communicate something along the lines of: You are special to me. I am glad that I have met you. I hope to keep you in my life. I honor that which is uniquely you, and oh-so female (or male).
A Valentine’s Day gift can be a nice, and even fantastic, accompaniment to the message of the day, but it can’t, by itself, be the mouthpiece. Something must already exist between two people. Even the start of something is fine. While a gift can pretty up the melody, the tune, or even the whisper of one, must already be in place. Otherwise, the gesture of a gift becomes pretty meaningless.
My bias against standard Valentine’s Day gifts, bears and chocolates and so forth, is not that they’re pedestrian–it’s that they’re sometimes called in as surrogates, props for emotions that one is supposed to feel when what one wants is the real deal.
I know a man named Greg. He is a man who has been on Earth for a fair number of years; I’ll guess around 50. He is a nice, decent guy who has known his share of gals. The best Valentine’s Day date he’s had goes like this:
He asked a girl that he really liked out on a date for Valentine’s Day. He saved his money to take her to the grooviest place in San Diego. He got a new suit.
A few hours before their date he was getting swank in said new suit. A bouquet of flowers that he had picked for her were in the refrigerator. He got a call. It was his boss, demanding that he go deliver some furniture. At that point in his life Greg was in no position to say no. He got in his work clothes and drove to his date’s house in the company’s work truck with the flowers. His date answered the door. Her name was Debbie and she was dressed to go out. He apologetically told her his fix. She told him to go wait in the truck.
A few minutes later she got into the truck’s passenger seat wearing a pair of jeans, T-shirt and sneakers. “Let’s go,” she said.
They drove up to Los Angeles together and delivered the furniture. On the trip they talked, listened to music and laughed a lot. They got back to San Diego around two in the morning, got some fast food and drove out to the beach. They sat on the back of the truck, ate their delectable paper-bag feast and talked and laughed some more.
It was, hands down, Greg’s best Valentine’s Day ever. Why? It was an experience. It was a great, romantic experience filled with connection and happiness and laughter. And experienced by two people who enjoyed one another. Oh, and she thought the flowers were nice.
Now, I like a puffy, soft teddy bear as much as the next practical adult, and would trade a herd of them in a heartbeat for five minutes of a Debbie-and-Greg kind of date, the likes of which I hope you experience this Valentine’s Day.
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