Don't trust Rodarte

Ok, so I'm back off Rodarte. I've never been a big fan, filing them under: Emperor's New Clothes, sub-section: Slightly pointless labels whose collections always look exactly the same, are not something I would ever wear, and get way too much hype, plus what the hell is that extra piece of material there for.

I was, however, as excited as most people when I heard the Mulleavy sisters were to design the Black Swan costumes, thinking that while their floaty and extraneous-use-of-chiffon-and-sashes aesthetic is not something I see much need for in real life, it would translate beautifully into ballet costumes.

And they were gorgeous. But the label's attitude to their involvement in the film's costume design, less so...

Read an interview with the film's actual, credited costume designer HERE at the brilliant Clothes On Film.

And now, some celebrities looking stupid in Rodarte to hate on, in light of this news:

Black Swan

Black Swan is unmistakeably a Darren Aronofsky film. I saw it five days ago and still feel mildly anxious and strangely vulnerable, a post-viewing feeling I've come to think of as his director trademark.

Such is the film's visceral power that you're not entirely sure the story it tells isn't happening to you, an effect aided by the delirious pace and inherent confusion throughout over what is real and what is not.

It is impossible for your mind to wander while watching it, which is the mark of cinematic brilliance, but sometimes you wish it would, which to me is the mark of Darren Aronofsky's brilliance, but also the element of his directorial style that most divides viewers', if not critics', opinions of him.

Similarly to previous Aronofsky films Pi and Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan makes you very aware of your own body, and not in a comfortable way. It also makes you hyper-aware of the workings of your own mind, in a way that is genuinely disturbing, especially when you consider that Natalie Portman has compared the film to a Rorschach Test for each individual viewer.

Much has been made of the Rodarte costumes, especially in the fashion press of course, and they are perfect but, in a film where some of the major themes are transcendence and transformation and the perception of reality, it is the makeup and visual effects that are truly astounding. Nina's physical transformation into the Black Swan is one of the most terrifyingly beautiful moments of cinema I have ever seen, as is the much-anticipated sex scene between her and Lily.

Equally, the score plays a huge part in creating and sustaining the menacing atmosphere. Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake score is present throughout, but played backwards, creating the unnerving effect of things being not quite as they should be to anyone familiar with it.

Natalie Portman surpasses the hype, and is perfectly cast. Winona Ryder as the company's washed-up starlet is an equally inspired, brilliantly wicked choice. Every word of Vincent Cassell's company director Thomas Leroy's farewell speech at her retirement party, during which he pays tribute to her past brilliance but is very much emphasising the fact that this is over and it is time for someone else (Portman) to assume her role, could have been aimed at Ryder herself.

As for Cassell, I didn't think he was given enough to do. He pretty much had to just phone in the Frenchness and intensity. Ditto Mila Kunis with the sexiness and intensity. Both were very two-dimensional, with no hint of character motivation, which wasn't their fault and I'm guessing was part of the whole horror movie schtick, but still disappointing. In a similar vein the film is occasionally a little heavy handed. There is absolutely no subtlety here, which could be a little insulting if you are unwilling to accept that this is deliberate and just surrender to it, but works beautifully overall if you do.

I couldn't truthfully say I enjoyed the film but I wanted to see it again as soon as it finished.

Le jour de gloire est (presque) arrivé

I don't think I've been this excited over a movie since The September Issue. Or the last Harry Potter. Or maybe ever, over anything.

To be continued once I've actually seen it (tomorrow)... Must try not to read any more reviews before then. Or to watch the trailer, again.

I'll just content myself with LaBoca's Bauhaus Modernist masterpieces here. Even the posters are perfect.

"Can we talk?" Golden Globes 2011

The Golden Globes may not offer the melodrama and scope for environmental/Haiti-concern posturing so beloved of people paid to dress up as someone else on quite the same scale as the Oscars, but the red carpet does tend to be a little more interesting as a result.

In a recent and regrettable fit of economy I cancelled my Sky television subscription so had to wait till today to see what Marchesa/Elie Saab gown everyone went for. On the plus side, I didn't have to listen to anyone awkwardly compliment Giuliana Rancic on her emaciated frame (miss you E! channel).

First up and in Atelier Versace, Elvira Mistress of the Dark decided to spice things up by attending with George Michael, and wearing something not the same colour as her own deadened flesh.

Still don't care though. It's long-sleeved and high-necked, as per effing usual. We get it, your sexuality is so understated. OR: you're a wanton whore who's dead inside (and possibly out) and you stole someone else's husband; style crushing on an elderly resident of The Emerald City isn't going to make us forget.

Paradoxically, Anne Hathaway in Armani Privé is a total success in much the same dress, and hair style, thus proving that Elvira can suck the life out of any look/relationship.

Christina in retro-prostitute look shocker:

Anyone who blogs this and uses the words 'killer curves' is a moron.

Ditto with regards to this hot mess:

I've said before that until Hendricks gets a breast reduction, there isn't much she can do to make any clothes, made by anyone (even, um, Romona Keveza?), anywhere in the world, look better on her. I spoke too soon. There is something she can do: not wear anything with an enormous ruffle anywhere near the boobs.

Angela Chase left her flannel at home, and proved without doubt that pretty much the best accessory for a red carpet/pavement/poolside/going to Tesco gown is a flat chest. Sigh. Appropriately, AngeLICA is kicking it 90s style in Calvin Klein, who's been kicking it 90s style since the dawn of time. But, surprise surprise, it still works for me. And hey, it's in an SS11 acid pop colour, so he's trying.

CZJ Scarlett O'Hara here lost everything she owned in the fire that destroyed Tara. Fortunately Prissy had salvaged the astro-turf they had ordered for the new golf course.

I've been reading a lot of comments expressing surprise over what a state Heidi Klum looks here. God knows why, she always dresses like she has mental health issues. I'm just grateful that for once I can't see her cervix.

By contrast I doubt anyone was surprised by any of this:

Or, I hate to say it, this:

I just about fancy January Jones, she's that beautiful, but she seems consistently incapable of channelling anything but saloon girl on a red carpet, and hellbent on cantilevering her breasts into the most awkwardly built dresses of all time.

Lea Michele has clearly been reading her own press. Because nothing says "I swear I'm not a total bitch" like Peaches and Cream Barbie's hand-me-downs. Saying that, I like it. Megabitch is beautiful, and her skin tone rocks this colour. The structure is amazing, and she looks as fresh and pretty as she knows she is.

Blair Waldorf is shutting it down all over Rachel Zoe's buhnana shop in pre-fall Burberry Prorsum. Amish sensibility? Check. Total disregard for the award ceremony-specific pressure to wear something strapless and colourful? Check. This makes me so happy.

I've never really understood the whole Jen-Lindley-is-so-stylish thing, despite her being the girl crush of choice for some of the most fashion-savvy girls I know. And this is not helping:

This gives me concerns over Valentino's health. He's pretty old now, is this the evidence that he may well be losing his marbles? And if you're going to wear Valentino, for God's sake why not just go for a Valentino Red? Oh, and grow some hair, you're not THAT pretty.

Sweet lord, Mila Kunis is hot. Such a shame there was that mix up at the stylist's that left her with Helen Mirren's dress. It confuses me why else she would have chosen to wear this. It's hideously fussy and clearly designed for someone thirty years older, and I'm sure Rodarte would have sprung for a freebie.

The biggest shock to me of the night was the fact that I DON'T HATE THIS:

Everyone else seems to, and I will admit that my first thought was "pregnancy brain", but it has grown on me. It's very Old Hollywood - an attribute all too easily bestowed on any old thing that's red/black/well-cut/not slutty, but this dress actually does make me think of 30s/40s actresses who wear turbans and smoke through cigarette holders. Weird, but lovely, which is always the best combo. The bag looks like a wallet though.

Next up Rumer Willis (who really should follow her mother down the major-surgical-face-overhaul road). This isn't strictly speaking a Red Carpet Photo, despite the fact that the carpet does actually appear to be red, but maybe Roo Roo didn't get invited to the main event. Which is a shame because she's never looked better. Makeup, jewellery, dress - all gorgeous. And good hair too. Just take that butterfly crap off the waist and we're all good.

Maybe this will help people get the message that blondes really don't suit nudes:

I love the dress, but get a tan for christ's sake. It doesn't make you a worse actress.

Ah, Tilda. When I worked at the Scottish edition of a certain tabloid they were fond of reporting on Tilda Swinton's every movement. This was due to a dearth of bona fide Scottish celebrities, which had the effect of a)provoking a frenzy in the newsroom every time Paolo Nutini, Amy Macdonald and Lorraine Kelly left the house, b)a misguided conviction that Sharleen Spiteri was still in the charts and c)the bizarre appropriation of everyone who had ever set foot in Scotland as "Scottish", which periodically allowed them to print pictures of "Scots celeb" Keira Knightley, whose mother was born here.

Of course, when it came to Tilda most stories (and I use the word loosely) centred on her "wacky!" dress sense, and no doubt they'll be having a field day with this racy little number:

But then, I wouldn't expect readers of a Scottish tabloid that is not the Daily Record to understand Jil Sander.

I love this. It's Miss Jean Brodie goes to Hollywood. Of course, it badly needs a belt, and a statement necklace, and a few of those buttons opened, and shoes that are not the colour of a My Little Pony. But it's Tilda Swinton. I don't want her to wear a sequinned strapless Marchesa. I do want her to wear some bloody makeup though, lots of it.

In a similar vein, I'm actually quite keen on Tina Most Overrated Woman On Television Fey's dress:

Just not on her.

It's navy blue, it's velvet, it has a low, wide V-neck; a lot of the elements I look for in clothes are present. Just picture this on someone younger and prettier (I'm sorry, but it's true), with loose hair, more modern makeup, less self-consciously glitzy jewellery and a much better bag. Slap some long sleeves on it and I can see M-K rocking it to death with straggly waves, raccoon eyes, red lips and a whole mess of tribal/navajo/diamanté necklaces.

And finally... we have a winner:

Hailee Steinfeld's Prabal Gurung is hands down dress of the night for me. I want to get married in this thing. Hell, I would marry the dress.

Here it is in Prabal's SS11 show:

Bravo, Hailee. Bravo.

And what would a red carpet recap be without a Joan Rivers quote?

"I don't exercise. If God had wanted me to bend over he would have put diamonds on the floor."