Is there a movie that changed the way you think about your personal style?
Kat Henning
In Terry Zwigoff’s “Ghost World,” Enid’s transition from adolescence into adulthood is represented visually through her clothing choices. Enid leans into provocation via sickly green lipstick, a latex sex mask, and animal print polyester; her loud vintage outfits have the temporal presence of an experiment. At the start of the film, Enid and her best friend have just graduated high school. Together, they openly loathe the world (specifically Los Angeles) they have grown up in, but can’t stand being on the receiving end of criticism themselves. Enid in particular seems only able to articulate her place in the world through refusal and contrarianism. Hence her fetishization of local eccentrics: people whose behaviors, appearance, and interests lie outside of cultural norms. Enid develops a friendship with an older record collector, Seymour, who shares her antisocial perspective: “You give [people] a Big Mac and a pair of Nikes and they’re happy. I can’t relate to ninety-nine percent of humanity.” Seymour is a slave to his own consumerism, however. “You can’t connect with other people, so you fill your life with stuff,” he admits.
Enid has not fully developed an outlet for her alienation outside of her personal style, which changes dramatically from scene to scene. After she dyes her hair green, a man taunts her at the local ‘zine store: “Punk rock is over.” Enid insists she isn’t actually trying to be punk; her new hair color, biker jacket and white creepers is an authentic homage. “This is an original 1977 punk rock look!” she sputters. “Everyone’s too stupid!” In a later scene, she looks hopefully over a bar crowded with men, then turns her attention to a mirror to remove her eyeglasses and crocheted red snood. Despite her claim that she isn’t into “these pseudo-bohemian losers,” she is not above changing her appearance for the sake of their approval. Enid struggles to explore, much less express, her own desires. Seymour confronts her with a simple, potentially existential question (“What do you want?”) and she answers with another question: “Don’t you like me?”
As she breaks up her close friendships and blows a chance to attend art school, Enid’s ever-changing wardrobe is whittled down to a limited palette of bright red and black, with short hemlines and heavy shoes. The individual garments change over the course of multiple outfits, but the effect is the same: a singular uniform, created without the crutch of obvious subcultural signifiers or transgressive accessories. Enid has found a Look, and it is all hers.
“Ghost World” shows that a focused sense of style has the potential to create new emotional landscapes. “I used to think about one day, just not telling anyone, and going off to some random place,” Enid confesses. “And I’d just…disappear, and they’d never see me again.” Seymour admits he ‘probably’ felt the same way when he was her age. As a 14 year old watching this film in my best friend’s basement, this sentiment struck a chord. I too longed to quit my posing and walk out of my Midwestern life to an unknown future. To start over, blank as paper. Enid’s transformation showed me that I still had choices. Personal style could be found through the distillation of elements (less is more, as the cliché goes), not a multiplicity of personas, and true selfhood might eventually follow.
Karl Braun
Pulp Fiction is my favorite movie of all time! I tried to find a photo that showed the outfits better but I loved this dance scene with Uma Thurman and John Travolta! Travolta is wearing a bolo tie!
Hill Peterson
Last Fall, I was shown Michelangelo Anotonioni’s Blow-Up after a nice evening out. It was honestly way too late to be starting a movie, but I knew of it and I had always wanted to watch it, so I reluctantly agreed. The names in the intro credits as well as the font styling give away the fact you are about to see a very hip movie: produced by Carlo Ponti, featuring Jane Birkin, music by Herbie Hancock with an appearance by The Yardbirds. Those names definitely carry weight and I was expecting a lot since I was told this was, more or less, the same story as Hitchcock’s “Rear Window” - so right away you have this murder mystery cloud looming. The opening scene throws all my ideas of what this movie is going to be about out of the window. You see a Series II Land Rover (one of my many dream rides) packed with a group of mimes shouting and running into the streets to perform which then immediately cuts to working class men filing into work. Next you see Thomas, our protagonist, standing against a wall on the sidewalk holding a ratty brown bag and wearing what looks to be tattered clothes while he looks around the street suspiciously. Jump to our main character pulling up in a navy Rolls Royce convertible and he is suddenly surrounded by the mimes. They make their way down the street and Thomas walks into a building which is quickly revealed to be a photography studio as he hands his paper bag of what turns out to be film to one of several assistants. The next few shots show us that he’s a fashion photographer so now I was ready to ruin a work day to stay up mostly to see where this was going and partly because every person in each frame had so much style, I kept wanting to pause and pick it all apart.
At this point in my life, I’ve managed to ebb and flow through various trends and pick up the bright notes to add to my style. Growing up with a copy of the Preppy Handbook and working at Sid Mashburn tips my hand as to what my foundation of clothes looks like, but Blow-Up had me re-thinking a lot of ways I like things tailored and to make some bolder choices once and while. There is a lot of British Mod to be had, but there are also a lot of trad looks that are unexpectedly cool and chic. I think what really stood out to me was how each character had a strong individual style but still fit the vibe of each scene. I found myself constantly thinking, ‘I wish I could pull that look off.’ You’ve probably got some free time to fill up, it’s $5.99 on iTunes right now - pull the trigger because you’ll likely want to watch it again the next day.
Christie Claude
Before moving to Los Angeles, I spent some time crashing with extended family in Laguna Beach. I would drive to Laguna Canyon, park my car on the side of the road and walk up into the hills snapping phone pictures of classic cars parked outside the dreamy bungalows of retired hippie elite. Stopping to gulp deep chestfuls of the crispy, sagey air only California canyons possess.
I started dating someone who lived in the canyon, and he introduced me to Robert Altman’s films. Altman’s 1973 Los Angeles noir The Long Goodbye changed the way I think about my personal style. My intersection with this film felt like a preordained, right place and time moment between viewer and art. Having just arrived in California, spending my days wandering a canyon road that emptied onto the beach, anticipating moving to Los Angeles with few expectations— the film was my rite of passage into California culture.
At my Florida high school, I was given the senior superlative “Born In the Wrong Decade,” which I pretended not to care about but secretly loved. I wore my dad’s old flannel shirt as a dress over tights for the yearbook picture and considered myself the school’s vintage clothing expert. I was obsessed with the ‘70s and tried to emulate Stevie Nicks, Emmylou Harris, Michelle Phillips. I think coming into your own style means reaching a point where you don’t have to think twice. Your influences are present, but you know instinctively what you like and what makes you comfortable.
I didn’t fully come into my own personal style until I saw Nina Van Pallandt as Eileen Wade in The Long Goodbye. Her wardrobe is mostly bohemian “peasant” dresses accented with a single statement accessory or beach hat. Her hair and skin appear untouched except by sunshine. Every ensemble looks simultaneously dressed up and down. Perhaps what I like most about her style is how each piece looks handmade and rustic— the antithesis of the Walmart and Target culture of my youth! Chic, able to be removed in a single swipe to jump in the ocean. “Very free and easy,” like the Crosby, Stills & Nash song goes.
I carry this style philosophy with me and try not to buy anything brand new or too trendy. I’m content with looking as if I was born in the wrong decade, perhaps an extra out of a scene from The Long Goodbye.
Lauren Kronser
Looking back on it now, maybe it was the California vineyard lifestyle that ultimately drew my 8 year old self to fall in love with The Parent Trap - 1998 version starring Lindsay Lohan (x2). I’m not going to pretend that I took immediate notice of the fashion way back then. In reality I just wanted a twin sister who dressed the total opposite but liked to misbehave. I like to think I’ve always been a combination of both Hallie Parker and Annie James, each character was the epitome of cool. Hallie with her denim jacket, bandanas and loose cotton tees; she wore sunglasses with tortoise shell croakies like a boss. Annie, with her polo shirt collar folded over her crew-neck sweatshirts and all-tweed ensembles, seemed so mature and polished. Growing up in Wisconsin meant I was new to both, but related to each equally. There was a time and place to show up polished, while majority of the time chances are high I’m rocking jeans and a tee. Not only was I intrigued how each twin had a distinctive style, their mom was classier than I’ll ever be and brought monochromatic into the picture way before the word was on my radar. Can anyone ever own too much beige and cream? Answer is always no. I forgot how solid of a vibe the whole movie is and can’t wait to go spread peanut butter on my Oreos, reevaluate my wardrobe and order a new buttoned-to-the-top henley.
Colin Shields
When I watched Dead Poets Society, the 1989 film by Peter Weir, in 7th grade; not much stuck with me from the movie except for the way the character’s were dressed. The uniform of the all-boys prep school was intriguing to me because I didn’t have much experience with uniforms at that time in my life. This sparked my interest in the practicality of wearing the same thing each and every day. While I can never quite get myself to commit to an extremely condensed wardrobe, it’s nice to daydream about the luxury of not having to think about what you put on in the morning.
The way they portrayed “Ivy Style” in this movie, was pretty spot on in my opinion. When I watched the movie again about four years later, I could appreciate everything about it. Around this time, I was reading lots of menswear blogs and really starting to come into my own, in terms of style. While I attended a preparatory high school, we did not have a uniform so it did not quite fit in with what was portrayed in DPS. At that time, I started mixing a lot of “Ivy Style” influence into my own personal style and from there it became the biggest influence on my personal style today.
Hannah Hayes
I don’t remember how or when I saw The Royal Tenenbaums for the first time. But, I do remember my quiz bowl teammate handing me a burned copy of the soundtrack through the window of my VW Passat on the way home from school.
It was 2004, and I had just transferred from a large Catholic high school to a small, academically focused one in a pink cement building (the paint was on sale at the time). At my old school, I carried a backpack that I had etched onto the nylon fabric the lyrics from “Tonight, Tonight” by The Smashing Pumpkins with a Bic pen as my uniform’s statement piece. But at my new school, dorks made up the majority population and the dress code rarely needed enforcing.
Suddenly, what music and movies you were into or what clothes you wore didn’t determine the lunchroom seating chart. One of the most popular guys in school wore a braided belt with his athletic shorts. Even our principal (who had a massive back tattoo that was talked about in hushed tones) would play Steely Dan’s “Pretzel Logic” and The Moody Blues on the P.A. after morning announcements. My new friends listened to Belle and Sebastian, Talking Heads, Ted Leo and The Pharmacists, Beck, Bright Eyes, and Yo La Tengo.
Also, they were just really nice.
Suddenly, I felt less fierce about my favorites defining my personality or portraying me as someone greater than the cultural means of my middle America home. It seemed safe to be genre-fluid here. Without my white button-down oxfords and pleated grey plaid, my closet became more colorful too.
My high school days were also the heydey of The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Walkmen, and Interpol. That New York City sound matched perfectly with our frequent screenings of The Royal Tenenbaums. For a bunch of Film Club geeks (founder and president speaking) in Wichita, Kansas, this was the window seat we returned to again and again to see the world beyond our pancake-flat prairies. The easiest way to emulate it in our real lives was with our clothes.
After school, my dude friends and I would ride down Douglas Avenue with Sonic slushies toward the D.A.V. and Value Center on our circuit of preferred thrift stores. There, they would grab corduroy, ‘90s denim, and decades-old charity run tees to fit some mental mood board of Julian Casablancas, ’70s-era Bob Dylan, and Richie Tennenbaum.
On the other side of the store, I would pull hangers out of the jampacked racks and try to imagine whether Margot Tennebaum would wear whatever I held up under the buzzing fluorescents. I never went as far to co-opt my grandmother’s rabbit fur coat, but I did adopt polo dresses as my main uniform for journalism camp. I found an argyle Bobbi Brooks jumper at a downtown vintage shop and was convinced Wes Anderson’s costume department would have bought it too. I even cut my hair into a long bob, straightened it, and pinned my bangs back with a barrette so even when I wore my “Abbey Road” t-shirt, skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors, I still had a Tennenbaum touchpoint.
Funny enough, I’ve been thinking about this time a lot lately as I reckon with the image of Gwenyth Paltrow, once Margot, wearing an ivory bikini pants suit in front of a floral vagina advertising Netflix’s “The Goop Lab” plastered across the internet. The Strokes released a new single using Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself” as the scaffolding. The characters from my past are still present, but they’ve changed. Then again, so have I.
This past December, when I unexpectedly stayed the night in a 1930s mansion turned bed and breakfast in Jacksonville, Texas, I found a DVD copy of The Royal Tenenbaums laying next to the big screen. Looking at the cover, that iconic photo of the actors in tracksuits, tennis bands and cowboy hats, felt as close as it reasonably could to finding an old family picture. It was comforting to return to this window seat even if the view has changed a bit, and I don’t wear polo dresses anymore. I still see myself in the movie, and the movie in my closet.
Cobey Arner
Do I know every U2 song? No.
But, their rock doc from 1988, U2: Rattle and Hum, shaped the way I think about dressing — for stage and life. Every member is wearing a monochromatic ensemble of black and white, a mix of leather, denim, maybe some Southwestern-inspired headwear, wire-framed glasses, cowboy boots, and last but not least, BIG shirts. Larry Mullen Jr., besides writing the best drum intro of all time on 1983’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, was a master of fits. I credit him alone with inspiring my most recent everyday uniform when the weather permits: slim black denim, a black cutoff t-shirt, and Dr. Martens derbies with black socks. Put some grease in your hair and you’ve got the 80s alt-rocker starter pack!
Honorable mentions include bassist Adam Clayton’s vest, layered over an extremely low cut tank top, Bono’s beautiful locks, and the tasteful accouterment of jewelry worn by each band member.
As a musician, it’s fun to look back at a time when band members and frontmen weren’t wearing the hottest sneaker or streetwear’s latest collab. They took pride in their looks and, god forbid, dressed UP to take the stage. They also just looked extremely cool. Whenever I need a north star on how to dress, I simply look to this Irish quartet. As Bono once sang, “Baby, baby, baby light my way!”
Charlie Franco
When I was a freshman in high school, I was boys with my Journalism teacher. He ran our school newspaper, and we bonded over a love of basketball and movies. When I told him I hadn’t seen Spike Lee’s 1989 classic Do The Right Thing, he was appalled. He lent me the DVD, and told me to keep it a secret since the movie was rated R.
Growing up, my mom wouldn’t buy me any Jordans. I didn’t have a job and couldn’t afford them, but my grail was always the White Cement 4. When I saw Buggin Out wearing them in the movie, it put them in a different context. When I saw people wearing Jordans, it was either seeing them in highlights of Michael himself or the cool kids at my school wearing them with wide, dark jeans and crispy Ralph polos. Buggin Out, like other characters in the movie, wore his sneakers with big tops and lil shorts. As someone with short and fat legs, this more colorful and retro look seemed like something I could replicate.
About 10 years after I first saw the movie, I was packing up all my things in Arizona to move to New York. I had been working at Finish Line, and with the employee discount hittin, I was finally able to cop most of the J’s I wanted growing up. It was the end of July, which is the ugliest and most humid time to be in New York. I finally understood why they popped all the fire hydrants and put ice on their foreheads in the movie. Most of the time, I found myself wearing a big breathable tee, tiny lil nylon shorts, and my absolutely beat White Cement 4s. Buggin Out would’ve slapped me in the face with a New York slice if he had seen how cooked my shits were.
Do The Right Thing will always have a special place in my heart. It was my introduction to the magic of New York and authentic late 80’s style. Lil shorts forever!
Paris McGarry
My style is a distillation of classic cosmopolitan chic and years of shy adolescent fumblings that no movie better epitomizes than The Graduate. The trajectory of Elaine’s style throughout the film is something that has always stuck with me, especially amidst some of the more iconic looks that surround her. The Graduate is so much about the familial and societal influences we choose to either abide by or reject. Generational ideas of taste, style and appropriate dress are an undercurrent of this film.
Elaine starts out the film as the perfect girl-next-door in a pink shift dress and a cream peacoat (set against her mother’s shiny and sheer party dress). Having had, myself, a mother whose style was one to be looked at, the choice to be understated has always felt more my own. Elaine’s look in the earlier part of the film echoes this common misunderstanding between mother and daughter, one of age and generational difference. The outfit she wears on her date with Benjamin seems to be the product of what had been advertised to young women in magazines and in shop windows, a direction I most certainly defaulted to at that age.
Later in the film, during Elaine’s collegiate years, she has finally seemed to come into her own (truthfully something that took me far beyond college to figure out). She’s found pieces, fabrics, colors, and hairstyles that suit her. When Benjamin goes to visit her at college, she wears a knee-length brown suede coat, a chunky wool sweater, knee-high leather boots, and a turtle neck. With muted olives, browns & her hair in a low ponytail, she is understated, smart, collegiate, and grown-up. These pieces are an investment, a more mature way to grow one’s wardrobe. She retains many of these polished, semi-professional and conservative undertones from her youth, while still looking cool, in-the-know and handsome (unisex, in the way Katharine Hepburn is described). Elaine’s clothes are rarely sexual or seductive; they don’t show much of her shape. There is always something practical and almost obvious about them, and yet they are a seamless part of the undeniable cool of The Graduate.
The Graduate is a film that I’ve always felt spoke to me. It’s a film that best describes the moments in life when you feel like you’re living in a movie. To me, this feels like moments of reflection and a newfound perspective, where development is palpable instead of sudden. My style has been a gradual progression based on familial, cultural and environmental influences that have brought me towards a place that feels chicly like Elaine.
Raymond Chu
As someone who has had many film influences on my style over the years, when I was younger, Howard Hughes (Leonardo DiCaprio) in The Aviator, perhaps one of Martin Scorsese’s more underrated films and still to date maybe DiCaprio’s best performance, would have been my first choice, which carries on over many decades of style like my wardrobe, but as time has gone on, I’ve moved away from the patterns, color palette, and wider silhouette of the 30s and 40s, and for some reason, always return back to Hitchcock.
Choosing which Hitchcock film has influenced you the most is its own challenge, with many of his more stylish films broken down on many style blogs, but as I had to travel significantly in my mid-20s, I always returned back to Cary Grant in “North by Northwest” and that grey suit.
That unforgettably iconic grey suit that has been discussed ad nauseam and the crop duster scene that has been repeated into pop culture legend. The suit is practically a character in itself, a symbol of Roger Thornhill’s emotional and physical state. Roger Thornhill, our every man protagonist played by Grant, caught up in some extra ordinary circumstances armed only with his wit and charm.
Finding myself with endless decision fatigue as a commercial filmmaker juggling freelance projects, and not wanting to store or haul an archives worth of vintage clothes while traveling for periods of time and living out of a suitcase or two, meant deciding to part with the already lesser worn navy pinstripes and dozens of striped and patterned vintage ties in colors I rarely wore anymore. I sought a better way.
Looking to David Lynch, Hitchcock, Walt Disney, Chris Nolan, and so many other filmmakers, I began to notice a trend: they all pretty much only wore grey or black suits. Like all the time. It was like unspoken uniform.
Over a few years, my life has become a lot simpler by primarily dressing in charcoal grey. I still mix it up a little, but as they say, simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, and I end up reaching for the same types of pieces over and over anyway.
Black and charcoal gray paired with a white shirt, with or without a black knit tie, is always chic and pretty much acceptable in most urban social settings, if not appreciated, and endlessly transformative, whether you are catching a drink with friends at a bar, traveling cross-country, attending the UN, drunkenly steering yourself away from a cliff, or being chased by a crop duster.
Despite being a throwback look, it feels decidedly modern to wear in this stripped down color palette. It just is. And maybe always will be.
Aaron Bengochea
I have a love/hate relationship with Wes Anderson (I hate how much I love his movies). When The Life Aquatic came out, I was in the 8th grade, so most of the comedy went straight over my head. What I did hold onto was the pure aesthetic value of the film.
This movies had most of my favorite things: the color blue, uniforms, dressed-down formalwear, custom sneakers, and full matching pajama sets. Although it looks like everyone is in complete matching clothing throughout, upon close inspection you notice that each character’s wardrobe is uniquely different while appearing uniform (seriously. every single character has slightly varied clothing whether a minor shift in shades of blue, stripe patterns, or hat style). Being a Catholic school boy with a mandatory dress code, I couldn’t be more inspired from how they show their own personalities while visually fitting into the norm established by Zissou.
Another major takeaway for me was also the concept of making merch for something that wasn’t available to me on the market. The amount of bootleg Zissou gear I made throughout high school was insane; several pairs of custom painted adidas, altered dickies workwear, endless red watch caps, and monogrammed pajamas. Honestly, if anyone out there has an official pair of Adidas Rom Zissou’s in size 9, plz HMU.
Addie Chapin
Sartorially speaking, I have an affection for Edwardian England. But, you could say my emotional equivalent is that of an Edwardian castaway. Comps include Kate Winslet, in-the-waters of the sinking Titanic. Her chiffon gown and corresponding neckline are period appropriate, but she’s also freezing her ass off and blowing a whistle like her life depends on it. We are nothing if not committed. So if I must go down with this ship, I will cling to historical accuracy like Leo clung to that fucking floating door.
For this installment of class project, we’re seeking warmer waters. You know what that means. Less clothes. Steamier subjects. So leave your breeches and basquines at home, boys and girls. All you’ve got now is a coconut and yesterday’s cotton petticoat. We are going to momentarily suspend penalties for misplaced period costume, because we don’t know *exactly* what era we’re in. Wikipedia claims Victorian, but our leading lady’s waist-length hair covers a multitude of sins. Let’s tarry no more and #deepdive into Fijian waters, the filming locale of our widely-known and quite lowly-regarded survivalist drama, Blue Lagoon, starring 14 year old Brooke Shields, and 18 year old Christopher Atkins. And not much else.
“A wooden ship. A fire at sea. And two young children are cast adrift. Fortune washes them ashore on a fertile isle. But fate deserts them, and they are left utterly alone. The years passed but no ship ever did. The boy and the girl grew strong and tall and beautiful, raising themselves on instinct and the bounty of their lost paradise. But this was no Eden. there were mysteries at work here, disturbing and compelling. The one mystery lay on the forbeen side of the island. Dark sinister, killing. But one mystery was hidden deeper still. Within this girl, now a woman, this boy now a man---the mystery of desire. She sees that his shoulders are wide. She sense there is one secret here she doesn't know. “What are you looking at? Your muscles?”
You can’t exactly call it soft-core, but it’s definitely not PG. Richard and Emmeline Le Strange wash ashore wearing proper boat-traveling garb (see: child waistcoats and ribboned strawhats) after their San Francisco-bound ship goes down. Their dinghy is captained by Paddy, former galley cook and the only adult present, who quite understandably relapses into a drinking binge upon reaching shore. His relapse is quick but thorough; he expires suddenly without so much as an explanation. The two kids are left fending for themselves in the remote South Pacific, and spoiler alert: they transition gracefully into model teenagers. As in, literally, Brooke Shields looks like a total dream. Christopher Atkins is cute, has curly hair and a puka shell necklace. He wears a permanent loincloth, except for a moment of brief nudity during a rock-sliding scene that apparently made a lot of men realize they were gay. I’m still unclear if this relationship is one of incest. Let’s not dwell on that too long. Did this set me up for a desert island survivalist fantasy at way-too-young of an age? Absolutely. Where was my mother when I was watching this on TBS? I have no idea. Did I also relate to the inability to call body parts by their real names? Whatever, I’ll be in my treehouse wearing nothing but a cotton ivory slip---my go-to transitional piece that will effectively serve as formal evening attire, swimwear, and breathable summer nightgown. Mermaid hair provides essential and necessary coverage for bathing on camera, UV protection, and/or privacy from your only island companion who just discovered the differences between men and women. The circumstances also provide an excellent opportunity to source foliage locally for practical accessories and adornment. A final word worth mentioning: Shields earned the first ever Razzie award for Worst Actor. It was that bad. But, proving the investment was not totally pointless, it received an Oscar nomination for best cinematography. Thank you, Nestor Almendros.
Duquette Johnston
My wife would probably tell you that from the time we met my favorite movie was Cool Hand Luke. I could not even tell you when I first saw it, but I know I was pretty young. I have been a movie fanatic since I was a kid.
The memories of going to the drive-in theatre outside of Buffalo, Wyoming or all the kids walking to the movie theater on main street and throwing candy at each other. We lived in this little mountain town and we all had to order our clothes from the Sears catalog. All the kids wore the same Nike trainers because it was the only shoe option for us. You got to pick white, blue or brown. It was the same with all the other clothing items, too. There was one thing in three options. So everyone was running around wearing some combination of it. It was a childhood of beat up denim, hickory stripe denim, white tees, henleys and a beat up chambray work shirt. And the Nikes.
That movie was the uniform to my youth. Maybe it was the concept of the uniform, whether built around the Sears catalog of my childhood or the prison uniforms of the movie.
And then I got lost for a while after high school and I came straight back to where it all started. The entire vibe of Paul Newman's character spoke to me. Stubborn as hell and laid back as hell and would only be his own man. Something my father always said to me, "Always be your own man". I just vibed with Lucas "Luke" Jackson.
Maybe it struck me a little too much since I was defiant to the extreme at a point in my life and wound up locked up in Etowah County Correctional Facility, myself. I even wrote a record about it. But we sure as hell did not get to wear nice cotton boxers, beat up work shirts or chambray shirts. That vibe is just timeless to me and something I always come back to or is at the core of where my style comes from.
Marc Beauge
I lived in Manchester for a few months when I was 9, and I have always tried and keep a close link with the city. I follow United, I like mancunian bands and read as much as I can about the city culture. Obviously, mancunian style have also always interested me, from the Perry Boys to cult brand Joe Bloggs, or legendary shop Oi Polloi... When 24 Hour Party People was released in 2002, I watched it, more than once. I wouldn't say it's a masterpiece or a classic, but I loved it. Behind the story of Manchester musical scene from the 80's and cult label Factory, the movie tells the story of an industrial city turning into the most exciting and fun place in the world thanks to music, a bit of drugs and also a totally independent mind. Obviously the clothes are very important in the story, and the movie. From the sleek outfits of Ian Curtis to the goofiness of the Happy Mondays or the flamboyance of Tony Wilson (Steve Cogan), it mixes the best and the worst in a such a candid way that everything actually looks great…
KERSTIN
Growing up as a girl in Germany during a time when there was limited access to great films, my first wardrobe inspiration was – perhaps rather curiously – Fred Astaire. Is that weird?
In every single film he would inevitably appear in a top hat, white tie and tails. Key his name into “Google” and those are the images that come up first. But I was inspired by the other look: slacks, tailored shirts, ties worn as a belt, tweeds, blazers, colourful socks and great two-tone brogues or lace ups.
The first image that comes to mind is his dance in “Daddy Long Legs” where is wearing a yellow shirt with light grey trousers and black and white lace-up. Six years earlier had worn a similar outfit sporting a pink shirt in “The Barkleys of Broadway”. (Check out the pink socks and the flannel worn as a neckerchief).
I didn’t understand Astaire’s own love for Savile Row then, but gradually educated myself. Astaire has always been described by everyone as a very nice person, humble and hardworking, which increased the fascination. That and the thought of getting dressed like him to go to work every day, but not for an office job.
But a tomboy also has a girl side, so Katharine Hepburn was the next logical step when I discovered her existence. “The Philadelphia Story” is the obvious example.
Greta Garbo was perfect, too, but none of us have access to Adrian’s designs or sadly all of her films in which she wore them.
As I am writing this, I am wearing a blue and white marinière, white and blue (yes, there is a difference) striped socks, high-waisted Levi’s slacks and a dotted scarf as a belt. My monk straps are standing by the door.
Taylor Grove
It all started watching TBS as a kid. Every Christmas, the network ran “12 days of 007”, a marathon of James Bond movies. There was something about Connery and Moore sauntering around, dispatching bad guys, uttering pithy double entendres, all the while perfectly tailored and self-assured. What more could a ten-year-old want?
But it wasn’t this version of Bond that ultimately hooked me. It was Daniel Craig’s 2006 Bond in Casino Royale. I had recently graduated high school and just began my first job in clothing. Entering a new world, I had little experience and was still unrefined in my way of dress. But so too was young James. Yet to earn his “007” status at the onset of the movie, he hadn’t developed his personal style or trademark introduction. Bond was figuring things out at the same time I was – learning from others around me and falling short along the way.
As the movie progresses, so does Bond. From a Sunspel t-shirt to a Brioni dinner jacket, he grows up in the span of two hours. The final scene shows him wearing a 3-piece suit and the confident smirk of a man having nothing left to learn. Well, maybe one thing. I’ll still have my martini stirred, thank you.
Natalie Burkardt
Last summer I watched The Last Days Of Disco, and I think I audibly gasped at all of Chloe Sevigny's fits. The movie follows Chloe and Kate Beckinsale, two recent college grads trying to break into the publishing world in NYC by day and hitting up the disco scene by night. They date, cook weird food in their apartment, and discuss the sex appeal of Scrooge McDuck. I love the work hard play hard approach to dressing in this movie - blazers and white t shirts for work, and anything black and/or sparkly for the clubs. You get the sense that the characters are playing dress up in both scenarios; they're dying to be taken seriously as adults so they can get promoted, but also seem to be in competition with each other to attract the most attention on the dance floor. This movie more than any other I've seen illustrates the feeling of security that comes with wearing the right outfit in a situation where you're otherwise completely out of your depths. It also gave us the best post-grad quote of all time: "Unemployed is not who I am. I'm a fully employed person who just happens to not have a job right now."
Gauthier Borsarello
J’aime particulièrement dans ce film le pantalon de Lino Ventura qui est un Lee Westerner en coton satiné, j’ai mis des années en m’en trouver dans ma taille. Le mix de vêtements Anglais Américains Français et africains est superbe dans ce film. (100000 dollars au soleil, “Greed in the Sun”)
I particularly like in this film Lino Ventura's pants, which are a Lee Westerner in cotton satin, it took me years to find them in my size. The mix of English, American, French and African clothing is superb in this film. (100000 dollars au soleil, “Greed in the Sun”)
Spencer Whaley
I was already frantically googling where to buy “go go boots” before I finished Pirate Radio. Pirate Radio, a movie about the antics of a group of illegal DJ’s living on a boat on the English coast provided my first introduction to “mod” style. I knew right away that it would forever be the look I would forever try to emulate. Ever since, I have been an absolute sucker for any shift dress I find at an overpriced “vintage” shop and sport curtain bangs that aren’t dissimilar to the bangs the love interest, Marianne, wears. I watched Pirate Radio before I even knew what French New Wave was (which is more or less the kind of style it was inspired by) so it holds a very special place in my heart (and also fittingly has one of the best soundtracks of any movie ever made).
Christopher Luke
I traded in my vintage Youth of Today t-shirts around the time I actually sat down and watched the The Talented Mr. Ripley in college. I don’t know if it was my inner pendulum swinging from rebellious to buttoned up, but there was something about Matt Damon’s fake Princeton style in a seaside Italian town that resonated with me. From the vintage Oliver People’s to the classic blue oxford all the way down to the destroyed Dovers. The casual elegance of it all just clicked, like the costume department wanted to reboot the classic French New Wave style that I always enjoyed. It makes sense though when you actually read the book and see how Patricia Highsmith wax poetic about a Dickie’s well loved Gucci suitcase for two paragraphs. Maybe it was the allure of taking something that didn’t belong to me, reaching upwards and making it my own, but without the drama of murdering someone for their identity.
CEDRIC BARDAWIL
Perhaps an obvious choice, The Graduate captures the “Ivy look” unlike any other film I’ve watched. Shot in 1967 at the end of the Ivy look’s mainstream appeal – it showcases refinement in menswear that disappeared in the 70s. A way of dressing that made Steve McQueen, Paul Newman and Miles Davis the style icons of the 20th century. Of course, they wore interesting things after but that distinctive mid-century American look, which set them up for centre stage was gone.
Here the spotlight is on Dustin Hoffman, who plays protagonist Benjamin Braddock, a 21-year-old graduate uncertain about almost everything in life apart from his wardrobe, which he mixes effortlessly from one scene to another. The powder yellow OCBD shirt is dressed up with a navy blazer, repp tie and olive trousers, and later worn more casually under a corduroy sports jacket. He goes on to wear his tan corduroy jacket with a navy polo shirt and a pair of washed out Levi’s 501 jeans. Then again with a pair of stone five-pocket trousers – showing the jacket’s versatility. That’s what I’ve always liked about the Ivy style, it’s utilitarian yet elegant and can be dressed up or down. It’s not fussy and shouldn’t be. If worn correctly, it’s an attitude. The very attitude that the Japanese have founded their fashion on - Popeye Magazine is evidence, with variations of these clothes appearing in virtually every issue.
And whilst I dislike the word “timeless” – it implies lack of character or distinction: good art, music, clothing, design should be of a time – the clothes Hoffman wears still look fresh over 50 years later. If going to a dinner or evening event where it’s appropriate, I’ll throw on a navy blazer, button down shirt, tie, dark trousers and loafers without hesitation. What makes his outfits of a time are the details, for example the blazer: it’s natural shouldered, with a 3/2 roll lapel, two-button cuff and single hook vent. The two-button cuff: still a language to many. The trousers he wears are cropped and tapered, again of the time. There weren’t rules, but there was consistency and it looked good!
CHRISTOPHER PIZARRO
So I gotta nominate 1967’s “Point Blank”. The film is brightly lit and super colorful, but what’s most striking is how the wardrobe enhances a story. Left for dead, Walker (played by Lee Marvin) seeks his revenge. As Walker becomes more alive so do his sleek suits. His wardrobe evolves from colder tone suits like gray and navy to warmer colors like rust, gold, salmon, and brown.It’s no secret that the 1960s is kind of my thing. “Point Blank” is a wonderful time capsule of the incoming sartorial shift in menswear during the mid 1960s.
Derek Balarezo
Being from New York, it was a no brainer for me to get into watching mob movies at an early age. I have my dad to thank for that. One night, he brought a Goodfellas DVD back home and told me to sit on the couch and watch it with him. Immediately I was hooked. Every character was impeccably dressed and wore gold. From the pinky rings to the skinny gold chains with the cross on them, every detail was perfect. Let’s also not forget the tailored jackets and the big camp collar shirts! Till this day I still wear a horseshoe gold ring on my pinky and a gold necklace. Regardless of the direction of where my personal style goes into the future, I’ll always have this movie as a reminder to dress up! Even if it’s something simple as going to the grocery store or a night out with friends drinking a couple Negronis.
ALEX SATOLA
One of the most influential movies on my style has been The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) directed by Wes Anderson. For those of you who have seen any of Anderson’s movies before, you know they are a bit weird. This bizarre, yet charming nature is readily on display in The Life Aquatic, which follows a cast of eccentric sailor-explorers led by Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) on their quest to take revenge on a murderous “Jaguar shark” that swallowed a beloved member of their crew.
The fashion in this movie accounts for much of its delightful quirkiness. All of the members of Zissou’s research vessel, the Belafonte, wear the same red cap, utilitarian light-blue jumpsuit and custom Adidas sneakers. The outfit is a nod to the movie’s nautical inspiration; the mythical French oceanographer Jacques Cousteau, who wore a similar set of clothes on his adventures. I myself would never be caught dead in one of these sailor outfits, but the little variations are pieces of film fashion I have craved for years. They include the turtleneck worn by Klaus (Willem Dafoe), the navy-blue sweater with the “z” stitched on the upper-right chest and of course the undeniably cool Adidas sneakers. A lot of these items are available for purchase, and in 2017 Adidas officially released the classic Rom sneakers with “Zissou” painted in gold along the laces.
In addition to the film’s distinctive styles, the underlying story of rediscovered filial bonding holds much personal significance for me. Arriving in his pilot’s uniform at the beginning of the movie, Ned Plimpton (Owen Wilson) claims to be Steve’s estranged son. Ned eventually joins the crew, and throughout the movie the initially cold relationship between father and son shifts to one of affection, loyalty and familial love. I have been lucky enough to grow up with an incredibly supportive father of my own; one who played a huge role both in my sense of style and my sense of right and wrong. From my early high school years, I have always had the impulse to dress like him. This involves a lot of striped collared shirts, sweaters of varying textures and pairs of converse passed down from him to me. I guess you could say that it’s our uniform.
In the film, Anderson demonstrates Steve’s growing affection for his son through clothing. In one scene, the crew of the Belafonte are investigating a mass of jellyfish washed up on the beach. Ned, not yet officially part of the crew, is wearing a plain white tee shirt under his filming equipment. Steve, however, is wearing his red cap and a set of customized “Zissou” pajamas. To everyone’s surprise, he suddenly asks Ned if he wants to join their crew. At first Ned hesitates, but eventually accepts the offer to join both the ship and the family, at which point Steve says emphatically “I’ll order you a red cap and a speedo.”
Sanjana Varghese
The basic premise of Mystic Pizza is a well-worn archetype – three friends Jojo, Kat and Daisy navigate their last couple of months together before they go to college, working at a restaurant in Mystic, Connecticut. Let me be clear - it's definitely not a fashion film.
But the best part about the clothes in Mystic Pizza is how comfortable they are. The Mystic Pizza uniform – a tshirt with exactly the right collar and sleeve length, A SLICE OF HEAVEN on the front in black lettering – is a dream, and all of the coats in this movie are perfectly worn in. But the real uniform in the film is a warm, comfortable chunky knit sweater – something which every main character wears in an array of pastels, bright colours and for the responsible sister, Kat, a beige and a deep purple too. Daisy wears matching, dangly earrings, peeking out behind a mane of curls (she never takes them off, even in bed). In the scene where she meets her preppy, white collar boyfriend Charlie, she's dressed up to go and play pool in a dive bar – unfortunately, incredibly relatable – in a tiny skirt, heels and a huge, bright red knitted sweater.
Throughout the film, a white, high neck turtleneck peeks out underneath a thick knit in a boring color, a trick that I try at least once a week (even though I've only ever found one perfect white sweater). The first time Kat wears bright colors, it's because the guy she's babysitting for – a dreamboat, with perfect aviator glasses and an array of knit sweaters and pressed button up shirts – lends her a deep purple jumper off his back. Daisy (her sister) points out that it means something, but Kat just shrugs it off. The first time I watched the film, I sided with Kat – it was just a piece of clothing – but every time after, I’ve felt differently.
Other things about the film have stuck with me – like the way to match your barrettes to your corduroy shirt while you pine after someone you can’t have. But my favourite scene has to be the ending. Cat and Daisy are wearing massive, pink, poufy bridesmaids dresses.They're doing unglamorous things – helping out in the kitchen at their best friend’s wedding – and yes, they do look ridiculous. But they look ridiculous together, which makes it all worth it.
AUSTIN WITHERS
1992’s Patriot Games, loosely, and I MEAN loosely based on the novel by the same name by Tom Clancy is wonderfully terrible. So much so, that Clancy refused to be a part of it once he had read the script. And, while the movie is rife with unfair stereotypes for the Irish and their ever-complicated conflict in the latter 1/3 of the 20th century, the inimitable Harrison Ford is dressed so damn well the entire time.
Ford’s ability as Jack Ryan to wear structured suiting with an impossibly well-pressed oxford and tie while saving the royal family from an IRA terrorist attack is something today’s bond would have required lycra for. Daniel Craig’s quads… This suit was the driving force behind taking my broke-ass to Drake's sample sale and allowing our friend Mat Woodruff to talk me into a brown wool EasyDay suit.
When Ford isn’t globetrotting, looking to foil the plans of Sean bean’s IRA rogue cell, he is home, with his wife, played by the stunning Anne Archer. See also: Fatal Attraction. The two can be seen in and around their traditional two-story home, with its sprawling front porch, set on a cliff overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. Ford, often in a perfectly weathered Barbour and a faded raglan sitting atop an envy-inducing pair of blue jeans.
What this movie does for the pencil-pushing analyst in Maryland stylistically, can be seen on the mood boards of your MCM all over the god-damned internet and can potentially make you as cool as Harrison Ford, though I wouldn't hold your breath.
RORY O’BRIEN
At only five years into my adult life, it feels a bit premature to chart my personal style on any meaningful trajectory other than its brief progression from “awful” to “better.” Until fairly recently, I wasn’t happy with my style. I would compare my clothes to those of strangers on Instagram, and fret that my items weren’t nearly as unique, or new, or expensive. However, as I take this time in self-quarantine to reevaluate my life (as one does), I’ve begun to look at my wardrobe more as an overall expression of my individuality, rather than just a collection of distinct items.
I’ve also found that a great deal of my personal style can be traced back to the style found in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1955 romantic thriller, To Catch a Thief. In it, Cary Grant plays John Robie, a former infamous jewel thief whose efforts in the Resistance garnered him a special pardon from France’s postwar government, allowing him a comfortable retirement in his villa in the hills outside Nice. Tough life. After he’s accused of perpetrating a new string of jewel burglaries, Robie sets out to clear his name by finding the real thief. The most interesting part of the movie to me, however, has always been Grant’s casual outfit that he wears throughout the majority of his screen time.
The Outfit: Striped navy-and-white pullover (très French); small red silk scarf, poking out slightly from beneath the collar; a pair of double-pleated charcoal wool trousers—high rise, of course; light beige socks, or sock less; tan Venetian loafers that are almost espadrillian (new word?).
Extraordinarily, Grant was allowed by Hitchcock to design his entire wardrobe: he found the sweater and scarf in a local shop on the Riviera, the pants were his own, and he had the loafers custom-made from Tod’s in London.
Seeing this movie for the first time, when I was eleven or twelve, I was instantly struck by Grant’s ability to look so comfortable and confident in his clothes. The clothes only serve as a highlight to his personality, rather than a distraction. As I look at my wardrobe today, I’m happy to see that it’s starting to reflect my personality. Almost all of my pants have a high rise, and are what most people would call “dressy;” I wear plenty of button-down shirts, but just as often I’ll throw on a knit or sweatshirt over a tee as my top; most of my footwear consists of casual leather loafers. I’ve learned to put time and care into developing my own simple style, and I have Cary Grant to thank for that lesson.
Joseph Pirone
I can't say that I go out of my way to dress as they do in The Paper Chase, but I can say that when I feel like I'm dressing as though were in Paper Chase, I am at my happiest. As a forgotten movie from 1973, I find myself drawn to it over and over. What I like about Paper Chase is that it is not the Tarantino, retrospective Once Upon A Time in Hollywood 70s, but the 70s of the hoi polloi, for lack of a better word. It's not just the way the actors dress, it's everything. The classrooms are old, full of wood, and, by comparison to today's classrooms, so full of life. Timothy Bottoms (one of the stars from The Last Picture Show) look great with mustache, rimless, pentagonal-shaped glasses, and a corduroy blazer that looks so good and natural on him that you don't even think about Wes Anderson. Yet, everyone else looks good, from extras to supporting cast. Everyone looks so comfortable, and that is what draws me in. It is my escape from a world where people are loosing their individuality and spontaneity. There is one scene in particular where Bottoms is wearing a buffalo plaid flannel with a white thermal underneath, and only the sleeves of the flannel are rolled up so you can see the thermal. And when you notice his jeans-boot combo below the waist, you just want to scream. It's everything I want. There is no sense of ego in any of these characters, yet they all look different. For a movie about Harvard law students, Paper Chase finds a happy medium between the grittiness of Taxi Driver and the prep of The Graduate.
JORDAN BUTCHER
I initially wanted to say Al Pacino’s excellent Frank Serpico, and I might lean into that on my most churched up days, but I’m rarely that cool. I thought about The Outsiders, but it’s too rock and roll. Possibly The Sandlot, but it’s insane to admit my personal style was influenced by a bunch of 11-year-olds. So, it’s going to have to be Richard Dreyfus in JAWS. American cinema, and Steven Speilberg specifically, really had a moment with solid drab color and practical basics between 1975 and 1985 (did Elliot from E.T. ever take off that red hoodie and jeans?). Some of the fits you see in JAWS are what you might find on a Harvard crew member after rowing practice... only covered in motor oil and filled with holes. High brow/low brow, baby! Chambray, solid cut and sewn basics, army green, and nice watch.
I grew up in a working-class Appalachian town (not too far from where Mr. Speilberg was born, ironically), sort of the hillbilly equivalent of the fictional “Amity Island.” New England kind of drips down and mixes with the southern humidity and makes something in the middle that looks a lot like Richard Dreyfus and Robert Shaw in JAWS. I still have this image of my dad burned into my brain: a 5’oclock shadow, a heather gray crew neck, well-worn jeans, and a pair of gray 574s. Like father, like son.
CHARLES MCFARLANE
A lot has already been written about the style of Serpico (1973). My guess is one of the reasons for that is it seems so modern and genuinely attainable. It makes for great quarantine watching clocking in at 130 minutes too. It’s based on the true story of Frank Serpico (played by Al Pacino), an NYPD cop in the turbulent and crime-ridden 60s and 70s who takes on the NYPD’s rampant corruption. I can’t remember the first time I saw the movie, but it was sometime in high school — I believe my mom showed it to me as it was one of her favorite movies growing up — and right away, I latched onto the costuming.
Anna Hill Johnstone’s costumes for Pacino are just perfect at every turn following him from new police academy graduate to bohemian West Village living plainclothes officer. The movie covers a lot of time (1960 to 1972), and the customs do a fantastic job showing how Serpico’s world is changing and his style developing. I think the biggest take away for me was this mix of blue-collar workwear with bohemian 70s style and military pieces. (sounds pretty current, I know). If I had to boil down all of Serpico’s costumes to one description, it would be Surplus Style. I’m talking green army shirts with tweed blazers, corduroy suits, wool bucket hats, tie-dyed t-shirts, overalls, wide military khakis, cut up chambray, field and deck jackets, and simply amazing headwear from crushed wool bucket hats to straw lampshade looking joint. There is also a great use of men’s jewelry from gold chains to a moving fish ring. It is really this kind of stylish utilitarian thrift store style we see so often today.
What makes Serpico's costumes seem so modern to me is this idea of being able to pick and choose different pieces of clothing from all manner of American subcultures. Serpico is constantly confronted with not belonging to one group or the other. He can’t be a hippie cause he’s literally a cop, but he’s not like any other cops either, shunned for his honesty and long hair. His style stands out in every scene but is still able to fall into the chaotic eclectic crowds of New Yorkers.
There have been a few hundred editorials about the style in Serpico and how you can capture the “same look” with designer duds, but in truth, you truly can't. Watch the movie and look at the costumes and see how the textures, colors, and cuts all work together to create the image of Serpico as he changes and develops over 12 years.
JARRED SHANGO
There aren’t many movies that come to mind when I think of my personal style, though Menace II Society has contributed significantly into changing my thought process of how clothes can differentiate in relation to proportion to the body and the idea of an “interchangeable” uniform.
O-Dog, one of the films most prominent characters, can be seen throughout in a variety of baggy t-shirts. His t-shirts appear to be a little long but in reality fit him perfectly due to the tee gracefully draping down to the general vicinity of the crotch seam of his sagged pants. Additionally, the sleeve lengths on his short-sleeve tees were always perfectly aligned with the elbow which fabricates this unanticipated variable of balance. During the time period this film was set in, wearing oversized clothes was usually directly correlated with wearing hand-me-downs from an older brother. As a result, clothing typically appeared comically disproportionate on the younger siblings that would have no other viable options for clothing.
The recurring theme of clothing and how it relates proportionally to the body is relevant even as O-Dog sports a variety of different silhouettes that are unconventionally tailored to his body. From the nostalgic sleeveless undershirt (also known as a “beater”) he is wearing in the opening scene to the flannel he wears later in the movie, I essentially became inattentive to what O-Dog was wearing due to his consistency of wearing clothes that were tailored to his body and his lifestyle. That is what true uniformity is supposed to accomplish. Adopting a uniform has to be all about authenticity, or else it will be noticeable which contradicts the whole idea of a uniform.
The idealized nature of the “hood classic” aesthetic displayed in Menace II Society has definitely played a role in setting the precedent of how clothes are worn in today’s urban communities. This film is iconic because of it’s underlying messages and themes, but I would definitely credit the costume designers with instilling this old-school, minimal style ideology of being “clean” and or “fresh” into the subconscious’s of black youth across America.
Henrik S Wilberg
Jean Eustache’s The Mother and the Whore (1973) belongs to the decadent, late stage of New Wave cinema. It is nearly three and a half hours long, I saw it once over a decade ago, and I have never forgotten any of it.
If the earlier New Wave is all about style, motion, and rhythm, Eustache’s film exhibits physicality, density and texture – and much of that is carried over into the clothes. The Parisian love triangle of Alexandre and the two women of the title never emerges as a real story, but in the opening scene there is a whole world in Jean-Pierre Léaud’s clothes. Léaud, known from Godard and Truffaut classics, is wearing a moleskin chore coat with velvet flared pants, a white shirt with a knotted silk scarf, and what I think is a pair of jodhpur boots. Not flawless, perhaps not even “good”, but it does not matter, it is truly irresistible. In a favorite scene soon after, Alexandre is on a well-worn corduroy couch, sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels with a friend. The friend is wearing an oversized shirt with heavy tweed trousers in a full cut, a large ring on his right index finger and an untied silk scarf resting in a position of perfect nonchalance. 70s style here can be seen in a kind of innocence, where excess appears subdued, where the theatrically sleazy and the naturally innocent are interchangeable, much like physical intimacy itself.
In this way, the film also marks a shift from the cerebral 50s and 60s Left Bank to the different Paris of the 1970s, mirroring, perhaps, a shift in French film from metaphysical concerns to the various claims of the body.
John Petersen
When I saw the movie HER by Spike Jones in 2013, a fantastic movie set in the not so far future where our main character Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) falls in love with Samantha, a SIRI like operating system that is insightful, sensitive, and funny. (Voiced by Scarlet Johansson)The clothes men and women wear in this movie feel like a nod to the past, and yet very much like what we would see in just a few years.
Theodore wears a bright red crisp button down top throughout the movie with high waisted trousers. His outfit is minimal, no belts, belt loops, and a shirt collar that doesn’t even exist. I ran out of the theater and purchased a red button down oxford immediately.
Like all good things, it seems like most of the wardrobe takes a nod from history, the grey tweed trousers, short sleeve linen shirts, and tortoise shell eye glasses. Every look is just perfect.
Give me all the High-Waisted Pants, Color Blocking, and Clean Looks please. Just waiting on my iPhone to look like an old time picture frame like the one in this movie.
JACK CARLSON
This was a tough call, and many favorites have already been named by others in this project - shout out to Talented Mr. Ripley (my all time favorite film, along, perhaps, with the original French version with Alain Delon, Plein Soleil); Clueless (my all time second fave?); Shadowlands, which takes me back to my Oxford days; 13 Going on 30 (I still listen to the soundtrack); and Ocean’s 11 (though I prefer Ocean’s 12 for its European ambience, Matt Damon’s lost-in-translation moment, and CZJ’s brilliant Agent Lahiri). But Joel Schumacher’s St. Elmo’s Fire is not only the quintessential Brat Pack movie; it’s that film which is so close to the apex of a genre, that it flirts with the border of pastiche.
Set at my undergrad alma mater, Georgetown (though confusingly shot at College Park after being denied a permit to film on the Jesuit campus), and featuring a fictionalized version of Georgetown’s iconic college bar (of Official Preppy Handbook fame) The Tombs, SEF has always found a soft spot in my heart. It’s an all-star cast, with Demi Moore, Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, Andrew McCarthy, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, and Mare Winningham - and together they form a Mount Rushmore of ‘80s East Coast style. Painter’s pants and tartan dresses. Crested blazers with jeans, academic gowns, and Oakley Frogskins. Judd Nelson’s contrast collar shirt with a yellow paisley tie and popped-collar herringbone tweed blazer (taking a Ralph ad too literally, or actually the vector for future Ralph ads? Who’s to say?). Ally Sheedy: a woman who wears menswear; Demi Moore: a student who dresses like a... But those shades she wears while driving the gang up and down Georgetown’s cobblestone streets in her Jeep Wrangler are perfection. And did we mention Rob Lowe’s insane Batman wifebeater?
The poster for this movie underplays, if anything, how absurd the fits in the actual film are. And yet it’s so ridiculous that it looks like a fake poster for a fictional movie-in-a-movie á la Crocodile Tears in Along Came Polly. The plot is dire, but aesthetically, the movie is so relentless, so archetypal, so committed to its craft, that it’s been inspiring my sense of style — an amalgam, perhaps, of all these weird, pathetic, but actually wildly cool characters — since my own college days.
REED KENNEY
I can remember watching Indiana Jones: Raiders of The Lost Ark as a kid and becoming captivated by Jones' tweed suit, thinking a lot about how they were able to make a teacher look both sophisticated yet very masculine - something at the time I thought was really exciting and dynamic. Through the rest of the movie Jones relies on the same khaki travel/expedition shirt and trousers that we all associate him with, and that change of tone is really the style takeaway for me. I think everyone's personal style is subject to change around core beliefs or interests as we continue to grow, so it's a neat idea to be able to have character changes, in a sense, based around context of the different areas of our own lives. I'm still waiting for my own character development to include a hat and a whip, but until then I will continue obsessing over tweed and looking for any well-worn khaki. Thanks!
CHRIS BLACK
I didn't watch a lot of movies as a young person; I was too occupied with aggressive music and Vegan activism. Luckily, as an adult, I have cinephile friends who can offer recommendations based on my tastes. About six months ago, my dear friend Jake Davis, knowing how much I love a coming of age tale, told me I had to watch 1992’s School Ties. The film was directed by Robert Mandel, and was the launching pad for the careers of Brendan Fraser, Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Cole Hauser and Chris O'Donnell. Set in the 1950s, it's the story of David Greene, played by Fraser, a Jewish high school student who is given a football scholarship to an elite Massachusetts prep school in his senior year. In a beautiful leafy setting, it tackles some weighty themes like antisemitism and classism. The movie is excellent, the fits are even better—approachable, perfectly tattered East Coast WASP wardrobes. Charlie Dillion, an entitled Harvard bound prick, played by a young Matt Damon, dresses really well. In one scene, he is wearing a navy duffel coat over a striped pajama shirt with khakis and penny loafers, a look that instantly stuck with me as something I should attempt. I bought a vintage Gloverall coat immediately. I am not a blue blood, high school football star, or even a graduate, but the coat looks pretty good with my loafers.
HEATHER LIN
In trying to think of all the movies I’d seen that made an impact on my style, I was hoping for some cool, obscurely artsy film... but I simply couldn't ignore my blatantly obvious choice. It's Clueless. It could only be Clueless. The matching sets, the amusingly extra accessorizing, all the layering! Everything is perfectly obnoxious and the impression it made on me is unparalleled. The film is a timeless commentary on fashion, popularity, peer pressure, and growth, not to mention Cher’s emotional tie to her clothing is beyond relatable. Her agony over the daily decision of what to wear literally happens to me multiple times a week. And what does she do when she’s feeling down, or excited, or anxious, or happy? She shops. I myself also indulge both in celebration and in sorrow. Similarities between me and Cher aside, the brilliance of the film is how it uses each character’s clothing as a physical expression of their innate personalities, the emotions they’re experiencing, and most importantly, how they grow over the course of the film's events. Cher’s transformation from a self-righteous princess to someone comfortable in her own skin is visually evident. Tai’s rollercoaster of grunge to prep to grunge-prep portrays her journey of finding her place in that world. Amber’s constant peacocking is a cry for any and all attention. Dionne’s ever-changing look is mesmerizing and confident. Not too long ago, I noticed that most of the people in my life (real or virtual) had certified “looks.” I tried to identify my style and found my brain constantly comparing myself with Instagram, friends, people on the street, literally everyone. Am I a Cher? Tai? Dionne? Amber? Miss Geist?! And honestly, this is why Clueless has stuck with me after all this time: it presents the idea that fashion can be freeing instead of binding, regardless of whether you use it to broaden your world or provide helpful guidelines for decision making. I’ve realized I’m somewhat of a chameleon; I dress based upon my mood, with each day bringing a new opportunity to self express and self invent. Clueless hits me on a different level because it’s a coming of age story that is not only told through the story but very obviously through the wardrobe. And while I may have "come of age” quite some time ago, I find comfort in thinking that maybe coming of age in my personal style will be an endless adventure. Never ending, sometimes confusing, and always one of the best parts of my day.
Pedro Vidal
In the early 50s, Jean Luc Godard saw a film that may have changed his idea of how the order and structure of a conventional film can be manipulated and detourned, a sort of “discrepant cinema”, which is what Isidore Isou called the rupture of sight and sound in the moving image.
Around 2007, when I was in college at Appalachian State, my film professor let me borrow a book called "Lipstick Traces" by Greil Marcus. This book opened my mind to a "secret history" of modern art and film, tracing the art practices of the Dadaists and Surrealists to the Sex Pistols and punk rock. Along this track in the book I discovered the work of Isidore Isou, a proto-dadaist / pre-French New Wave filmmaker. Isidore would go on to inspire the French movement, the Lettrists, which would then go on to become the more well known Situationist International, led by Guy Debord who is most known more his seminal film, Society of the Spectacle.
So, what does all of this have to do with my personal style? I have always been inspired by the artists of the early 20th century - Marcel Duchamp, Luis Bunuel, Man Ray, etc... These individuals wore suits and ties all the time as it was common place, however, they were still rebellious and innovative while staying super stylish. The Lettrists and Situationists, on the other hand, living in a post-WWII Europe, seemed to be a bit more casual, yet refined. They would mix sport jackets, coats, and military garb with their tailored garments.
There are images in the Treaty of Venom & Eternity that show Isidore Isou walking aimlessly through the streets of Paris alone, and others walk as well in the tradition of the derive - letting the psychogeography of the city draw and pull them from various places and spaces. Among all of this theoretical introspection, you see their stylistic cues and self-expression in an ever-changing society.
CURT BENHAM
I’m an Anglican priest who moonlights in the menswear business. I’m not aware of any film that connects those two strange bedfellows quite like “Shadowlands,” directed by Richard Attenborough, and starring Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger.
Hopkins plays C. S. Lewis (Oxford don, author, apologist, and Anglican “saint” if there ever was one), and Winger plays his late-in-life love interest, American poet Joy Gresham. It’s a bit of a soapy love story, but there are two things I LOVE about the movie. First, the clothes. Good Lord, the clothes! This film showed me what classic English tailoring really is. The tweed budget alone must have been extraordinary, not to mention the long point collars, club ties, capes(!), and brogues. Second, the movie explores what happens to people when they deserve or expect rejection, but receive love instead. It’s a movie about being fully know (scary!) and at the same time fully loved (the most wonderful thing in the world!). In other words, it’s a movie about grace. And grace, dear friends, transcends menswear, transcends Anglicanism, transcends just about everything.
Damian Munoz
The term “effortless cool” is thrown around so often in style publications that I, among countless others, have become numb to it. If there’s one thing for certain, however, The Talented Mr. Ripley is a film that truly embodies the notion of effortless cool.
The film itself depicts a romanticized notion of life in 1950s Italy that includes vignettes of outdoor cafe scenes, packed jazz clubs, glamourous sailing trips, Vespa rides through tight Italian streets, and idyllic, espresso laden summer picnics.
The style in the film is nothing short of impeccable: casual suiting, loafers with no socks, slim black turtlenecks, cuffed white trousers, knit polos, patterned skirts, and flowy linen shirts blowing in the Italian breeze…
The film also boasts so many incredible stylistic details such as Dickie Greenleaf’s (Jude Law) gold, gemstone encrusted ring, Tom Ripley’s (Matt Damon’s) blonde acetate frames, and Marge Sherwood’s (Gwyneth Paltrow) tied white blouses.
Above all, this film influenced my personal style at a more philosophical level than a prescriptive one. Rather than explicitly copying the looks in this film, I have sought to embrace the overall effortless, casual loose-ness depicted in the film. After all, who wouldn’t want to capture the feeling of living on the coast of Italy in the 50s?
Morgan Johnston
I think there's a magically porous time in one's junior high years where you just thirstily search for the good stuff while trying to figure out who you are and how you express yourself. I was blessed to be a young teenager in the mid to late 90s. We relied on movies, soundtracks and magazines for our culture. And while I was gleaning inspo from everything I could possibly find in a pre-Internet Alabama childhood, it was one movie that has stuck with me all these years: Alfonso Cuarón's Great Expectations (1998).
Yes, there's the costuming-- there's this one emerald green silk situation on Gwyneth Paltrow, a button down top and a bias cut skirt that still stands out as one of the most memorable and simple moments, but it was really the marriage of the wardrobe, the art direction, the set design and the music that make this THE ONE for me.
The colors become their own characters. The greens are verdant, graminaceous, viridescent, pallorous at times. It's emerald. It's arsenic. It's all the shades in between.
It's the ballroom dancing of children across the floors of the glorious Paradiso Perduto's decay (in real life the Cà d'Zan mansion of the Ringling family, yep the circus ones) as Anne Bancroft smokes long cigarettes from long cigarette holders while wearing Cleopatra makeup and a green feather boa. It's the broken serenity of the algae waters as de Niro leaps into a young boy's boat, prison shackles jangling. And yes, it's Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke (though he didn't ever do it for me so much, tbh).
Perhaps the biggest influence for me, that I didn't fully realize until only a few years ago when talking to a couple of my art collectors, is the art of Francesco Clemente that is used throughout the film. I've made art all my life, but in retrospect I think it was the role of art in this film and Clemente's style that has left a lasting impression on me. It was art as its own character. The evolution of an artist's work as its own living, breathing thing. It was how every moment in life is an opportunity to engage with and create art. And also how we can understand, process and integrate our emotions and life experiences through art. Even the smallest moments can be filled with joy, with sadness and the beauty of how these things exist together every day.
ALISHA bANSAL
I first watched The Matrix embarrassingly late and in the context of a high school philosophy class (don't ask). It was my senior year, and every day I would go to school in some iteration of Birkenstocks, jeans/shorts, a t-shit, and a sweatshirt. The clothes in The Matrix, unlike the fashion in the San Fernando Valley (think Clueless), was like nothing I had ever seen before and definitely not something I could wear in a literal desert. While I'm still not completely leather-clad, if anything, it foreshadowed my upcoming move to New York and shift to sleeker looks, trench coats, and well… a lot of black.
HENRY EGAN
Growing up, my mom would tell this story of when I was a baby and an older woman spotted me in tow at the grocery store. “He’s an old soul,” she said -- one of those bizarre and classic old folk remarks -- but one I’ve revisited more than I would have thought. Throughout my style reckoning, it became ever more resonant. Fast fashion was in -- and so accessible -- yet it was only the stuff that had soul, or told stories of its own, that satiated me in the way I craved. Last year, The Master came as a pleasant surprise when Paul Thomas Anderson floored me with his view of a post-war America, the golden age of casual men’s style. It’s the era that defined icons like Dean and Brando, marking one of the first times we saw workwear permeate everyday style. In PTA’s take, Joaquin wears large-collared sport shirts, with such quintessential mid-century patterns and plaids. His trousers are all worn high and maintain creases down the front. He toes the line between on campus and in the shop. It’s such a refreshing contextualization of “casual” after we’ve seen it get bastardized in more recent revelations. This, all encompassing a palette more expansive than any previous era of menswear. Better? It’s captured on large format 70mm film, breathing life into the rich texture and color his wardrobe boasts throughout. If you’re into it, it's the tip of the iceberg for great research -- otherwise, it's still a compelling taste of what getting dressed used to mean for a man.
TIM BOOTH
I’m not one to dress like a cowboy everyday but Javier Bardem’s character in No Country for Old Men has definitely had some influence on my personal style. What I appreciate the most is that he has one outfit for essentially the entire movie, a real cowboy. It never felt like a costume, this guy really just throws on his same boots, jeans, shirt and jacket everyday.
GRACIE WIENER
I wanted to pick a film that made me seem effortlessly chic, cultured, and cool; however, when it comes down to it, the answer has been (and will always be) 13 Going on 30. I received the DVD as a Christmas present when I was 8 and have religiously watched it since then. In the first bit, Jenna transforms overnight from an awkward teen to her 30 year old selfwakes up the following morning as her 30 year waking up to her dream life in NYC. This is when I decided what my future was to hold. With the style of a Vogue (well Poise) editor and spirit of a teen, Jenna approaches each look with 100% confidence and enthusiasm. Her outfits are a head-to-toe endeavor with no detail overlooked. I will be the first to say there are a lot of bad outfits in this movie — it was 2004, c’mon — but I have translated her overall youthfulness and commitment into my personal style. Seeing Jenna dress for herself, in a way that expressed her character, taught me at a young age to do the same.
ELLIOTT FOOS
A few years ago, I was directed toward a certain West Side cinema for a late showing of Louis Malle’s noir masterpiece “Elevator to the Gallows”. I remember leaving the mostly empty theatre and walking east through a mostly empty SoHo, energized by the film and enveloped by the enigmatic romance of the film. I paced through the streets in my blue trench coat, over a T shirt tucked into trousers. I was living a moment in the film, dressed the part, too, and that struck me- I could feel like this always, the noir drama of quotidian urban life. So I started trying to recreate that feeling, dressing with a good balance of stylish, “proper” outerwear & more casual, everyday elements, jeans and T’s rather than trousers and collared white shirts for every day use.
TRAVIS HARRIS
2001 was a big year for my style journey. First, I made the unfortunate purchase of an Indiana Jones branded fedora at Disney World (and quickly learned some things should only live on screen). Second, I saw Ocean’s 11. I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite movie, but I would say if it’s on I’m not turning it off. And it’s on TV… all. the. time. When it came to sartorial choices, I was a very impressionable youth (as a 7 year old I only wore a tuxedo to public functions thanks to James Bond). While Ocean’s 11 wasn’t quite as directly influential at the time, it’s dedication to embracing personal style stuck. The movie shows its age… half the clothes don’t fit well, the sunglasses should have been buried and left in a Y2K time capsule, there’s enough silk that mill owners in Cuomo made more money off the movie than George Clooney did, etc. But somehow… it works! Mostly because the clothes feel so personal. Tom Ford Gucci suits next to Gap T-shirts, Hawaiian bucket hats, bowling shirts, leather trenches. You name it, it’s in the movie. It’s the “when you and your homie on different waves but still vibing…” meme burned onto celluloid. While it’s legacy isn’t what to wear, it’s definitely how to wear it. What’s more influential and timeless than that?
Molly Yelon
As a child I was randomly obsessed with Josie and the Pussycats (2001) which is based on the comic book characters but it’s basically a satire on advertising and pop music (two of my favorite things). There are a lot of amazing outfits in this movie but the one that stands out is the famous all black outfit Josie is wearing when the movie begins with a black tank top and body chain that says “SID”. I don’t know what it means, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeling the influence of this pop-rock outfit my whole life.
Kelsey Warren
I devoured French New Wave cinema as a bored suburban teenager, so I have to credit Anna Karina in Godard films for altering my aesthetic sensibility early on. I think her roles in the 60s represented what I was grappling with at the time: typically, she portrayed a young woman not ready to let go of frivolity and playfulness, yet eager to navigate her independence and power. This manifested sartorially in Bande a Part (1964) with Odile sporting braids, a pleated skirt, knee socks, and a baggy sweater that was somehow still sexy. Also strongly in Pierrot Le Fou (1965) which had Marianne transition from flouncy pastel 60s dresses to slim-cut trousers topped haphazardly with military gear as their adventure progressed. Une Femme Est Une Femme (1961) provided the color palette for my own wardrobe (I went through a period of wearing almost-all-red outfits): Angela sports a red sweater with matching red tights, or a blue beret with matching blue tights, the same hues playing tag throughout. Vivre Sa Vie (1962) had more film noir polish to it, Nana with a sleek black bob and buttoned-up in black-and-white, topped with classic coats. The wardrobe of a Karina character was flattering without being too revealing, fun without being too cute or twee, tasteful without being too predictable or prescribed, and - most importantly - ready for any adventure. I think I still aim to strike that balance, 80 years after Karina first appeared onscreen. She passed away last December, but remains in the aesthetic imagination. I’ve been informed and inspired by many other style icons since, but bright reds, stripes, pleated skirts with knit sweaters, and cheeky accessories borrowed from the boys are all constants in my wardrobe.
Drew Graham
Animal House had a huge impact on my personal style. It was my first R rated movie. My dad, an Episcopal priest, took me having already seen it once. He was wearing his work clothes - a black shirt with a clerical collar. It was awkward. All of the characters had a distinct style, but I won’t say which one had the most impact on me. After the movie came out, several of us had navy blue sweatshirts made with stitched on white letters spelling “COLLEGE.”
Tim Ring
I couldn’t think of a sartorial cinematic moment, but I could think of a tonsorial one. In the Coen Brothers’ “O Brother Where Art Thou,” Ulysses, played by George Clooney, is on the run after escaping prison. He stops into a general store to buy some pomade, but they don’t have his brand. He refuses to by the competitor, insisting “I’m a Dapper Dan man.” His commitment to his style and brand loyalty always stuck with me. He’s on the run as an escaped convict, but he needs his hair to be looking right, and only Dapper Dan can do that. The pomade, a symbol of his vanity, ends up being his hamartia, his fatal flaw, as the bloodhounds track his movements by finding his empty and abandoned pomade tins. The lesson I took away, however, was that style is always important.
L.J. SLAN
I watched “Taxi Driver” for the first time in 1996 which was such a pivotal year for me! I was 10 years old; I carried the Olympic torch during the parade in Atlanta, I was introduced to Nirvana (truly a spiritual experience) for the first time, just started skating, and I was playing competitive football, baseball, and basketball. Meanwhile, I was attending private school and had to wear a uniform (& tie) 5 days a week! My parents always taught the importance of being well dressed no matter if you had on a coat & tie or t-shirt. While watching this movie, it all finally made since. Travis (Robert De Niro), always looked comfortable and most importantly, himself in what he was wearing. I quickly asked my mom if I could get a pair of cowboy boots and at the time what I called, “green jacket with a lot of pockets!” (later to find out its true name). My father took me to Horsetown in Atlanta to purchase a pair of cowboy boots and then we ventured to the Army & Navy Surplus store to buy a utility jacket. Later that year, I ended up finding a Nirvana pin back button to add on my jacket.
Nancy Satola
Most of my favorite movies are from the mid-20th century. There’s something that feels so simple and intentional about the design of this era and it’s nice to escape the saturation of 2020 for an hour or two. I recently saw “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” (1964) with a friend and was so taken by the way that Catherine Deneuve’s character Genevieve was costumed. Her character largely represents girlhood innocence, which is portrayed through the consistent use of hair ribbons and bows. Whether they appear at the top of her head or the nape of her neck, they are ever present. There’s one look that really resonated with me on an emotional level, which is when Genevieve wears her trench coat and a black ribbon in her hair to say goodbye to her lover Guy, played by Nico Castelnuovo. In my personal style, I think I incorporate two major running themes - whether consciously or not - which are my father’s clothing as well as children’s accessories. When I saw this outfit on the screen, I felt so connected to it because of how much I associate trench coats with my father as well as wearing bows in my hair with my southern youth. At the time that I saw the movie, I didn’t personally own a trench coat because I’d been holding out for the perfect one. I knew I wanted it to be a vintage Burberry, because that’s what my father wears, but just hadn’t found one was right for me. After seeing the movie, I went in search of a coat at one of my favorite vintage stores in Brooklyn - Front General Store - and I found the one. On my birthday, which fell a couple of days later, I wore it with a black ribbon in my hair.
Emilie Hawtin
Meryl Streep’s style in “Out of Africa” continues to remain in my mind. Edwardian-equestrian-safari, I suppose. It was the first time I saw that kind of rugged elegance on a woman on screen. She brought character and femininity to everything she wore: linen shirts buttoned to the top, long skirts with ties, cravats and woven shawls wrapped on one shoulder. Jodhpurs and riding boots mixed with safari jackets. Everything belted and gently tailored. The linen stands at the Puces, eBay searches and antique riding boots took on a whole new meaning after that.
