tom ford’s directorial debut: “a single man.”
julianne moore can send me into the fetal position without uttering a word. corpse blue, she still manages to outperform her peers. heard colin firth already took home best actor honors in venice. and sorry, if ginnifer goodwin doesn’t make you, licking batter out of a bowl, happy; our friendship stops right here.
pre-screenng, i plan to steep in monsieur ford’s black orchid till my pores bleed patchouli and vanilla. then i’ll saran wrap his 1996 black matte jersey dress (after i hunt one down) over my sandalwood scented body, and pair his 2004 spring/summer palace rhinestone t-straps with said frock.
junketing for the l.a.times, captain ford resolves his foray out of fashion and into film down to a simple midlife crisis. “midlife is when you get to the top of the ladder, only to realize you’ve had the ladder against the wrong wall.” he sees this film as a “personal reaction to the prevalent culture of more, of almost always thinking life will improve with a new job, or a new pair of shoes.”
i’m on pins and needles to take that small sabbatical from improving my life shoe shopping, and escape into this visual candy land.