Hello Duckies,
Recently I was having a conversation with a stranger about my choice in films. I had quoted some of my favorite, most influential films and this person had the strange reaction to call me.... predictable!
How dare you! "Hoooowww daaaarrre yooooouu!" I yelled. But quickly agreed with them.
My love of movies are dark, romantic, and just the right mix of the fantastical and whimsical. These pieces of cinema have shaped my gothloli aesthetic and given me endless inspirations for my own personal style. I'm going to share with you a few of my favorites.
Firstly is of course, Tim Burton. Besides the Burton tattoos that I have, my personal image has been crafted, very carefully, by this man. His dark, yet humane, view of the world is one that I do share.
Now I do believe that Edward Scissorhands was my first true love. He was perfect, caring, attentive, a fabulous hair dresser, but with, you know, the scissors for hands thing. I cried for him, when he left suburbia to go back into his castle... This notion of romance, of longing, of fulfillment, and inadequacy left an indelible mark on me. This grotesque man, with horrifying extremities, was the one I wanted. He was more beautiful than all of the grotesque people around him. The idea of something being beautiful and yet terrifying to those who judge it from the outside is a very romantic notion to me.
Oh my. What handsome devils are these? Spawn from a most glamorous hell no doubt. When I saw this movie, my world turn upside down. The two of them, pale, be-veined faces centimeters from each other, whispered regret and mourning between each other, made my young adolescent body explode with confusion and sexual frenzy! The outfits! The hazy, haunted background of New Orleans! The blood sucking! Oh MERCY! Excuse me while I loosen my bodice!
Ah, much better, thank you. I instantly went out and read anything by Ms. Rice that i could get my sweaty little hands on. Thusly began my love of coffins, shirley temple ringlets, and pale, tall, men with a hint of depraved hunger in their eyes.
When I think of the perfect lolita, I think of little Claudia. Poor little Claudia. She was a perfect, chubby faced little cherub, with a selfish, gluttonous, angry soul. If she even had a soul at all.
Her look inspires me to this day. Not just her physical look but also her dark, lonely, needy outlook. The bonnetts, the dark jeweled satin dresses, those perfect curls and those dark, empty, loveless eyes. Oh Claudia, I hate the sun too.
So at the age of 8, I knew who I wanted to be when I grew up. I would be Morticia Addams during the day and Catwoman at night. I'm still working on this, truthfully, but in the meantime I watch The Addams Family. I have just recently discovered that this movie had nothing to do with Tim Burton or Danny Elfman, which, quite frankly, blows my mind.
I wanted to be a part of this family. I wanted to be Wednesday Addams so badly or even a deformed cousin! The Brady Bunch scared the crap out of me as a child, with their homogeneous looks, superficial concerns and plastic, complacent suburban lives. But the Addams family, now that was a real family, sticking together against adversity, embracing their "quirks" and being true to themselves in a society that alienates them to change. I admired that. I still do. That, and the fantastic lighting cast on Morticia's visage. My God! If I could have that lighting on me with that slinky serpentine walk of hers I would have the men at my feet! Well maybe the weirdy ones. Her sexy, mysterious, hyper intelligent aura gave me a vision of womanhood that I hope to one day emulate.
Now I can't leave you without mention of Mr Burton atleast once more. In my childhood, the tale of Sleepy Hollow was one that left me with cupped ears and eyes shut tight, it filled me with images of decapitation, fog covered bridges, and spooky forests as black as night. Being stalked by a man with no head was not that high on my list of things to experience. But when this movie came out, I saw the tale in a new light, a gothic fairytale if there ever was one. The costumes, the scenery, the neon blood, and Johnny Depp's cheekbones all combine to make one stunning masterpiece. The costumes in the movie, particularly those of Christina Ricci (my childhood idol, Wednesday Addams now fully grown), let me salivating. Her black and while striped Polonaise ensemble haunted my dreams as much as Christopher Walken's barracuda mouth. If you actually get a closer look at the dress, the stripes are not solid but rather thick, uneven, lines as if lovingly, pen stroked by Master Burton himself. How terribly marvelous.
Well baby chicks, I know that my taste in films are predictable but there is something to say about these, that they are such great influences. I can not deny the mark that they have made upon me! I will not deny them!
Tell me, darlings, what movies influence your style?
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