maintenant… // ahora…

I am completely obsessed with this film.  C o m p l e t e l y . But then again, when am I not obsessed? I have used this particular phrasing in expressing my love almost too excessively on this petite blog of mine, perhaps even to death, for everything and anything. I simply cannot help it – it is inevitable.

I had finally decided upon watching the Vicky Cristina Barcelona (I cannot help but say Barcelona like Bar-sell-oooonah every time I type out the title in a pathetic attempt to mimc how the Spaniards say it so beautifully) last night, for no particular reason, save to satisfy my curiosity. I hadn’t heard much about it, really, except that Woody Allen was the director; it was that infamous movie still of Penelope Cruz, cigarette in hand, that made me download the film onto my iPod. And I could watch it over, and over, and over again. Repeatedly, nonstop. The backdrop was beyond perfection; Barcelona? Spain? Oh gosh, how I now longggg to be there amongst the gorgeous architecture, submerge myself in such romantic a culture, and wish to be whisked away by some sexily scruffy artist. I died at the script, the scenery, the actors, the actresses, the constant wine-sipping, and the art. The bohemian lifestyle, carefree and  i r r a t i o n a l l y  rash, was perhaps what made the entire film beautiful. Yes, I do wish I had a camera like Cristina’s to snap away with. And I think I’ve officially become a fan of Scarlett. She looks absolutely stunning in any hair colour! First Vogue Paris, now this. I die.

This is the very photo. The influential snapshot of María Elena, played by the beautiful Penelope Cruz. I have a predisposition to graffiti – I find it to be one of my favorite forms of art in its inhibited message, bold strokes, and unabashedness. It’s juxtaposition against such softness and femininity is breathtaking. At this very moment I wish to be María Elena – frightening beautiful with a mane of crazed, tousled hair; a pink, vintage slip over a black tank. All contrasted with the metal of the camera slung across one shoulder, and a large, fringed bag across the other. It truly is a breath of fresh air – hardly contrived and unpretentious.  B r e a t h t a k i n g . (Ai! The hair!! I love!)

Simple is sexy. Or maybe it is just because it is Miss Scarlett. Either way, a simple, fitted (but not tight) tank over linen trousers. Sipping wine, in a charming hotel, on the charming bed of a charming European man. Mmm.

María Elena is definitely my style icon; a top hot worn with a loose eyelet dress. Something about the combination would have seemed so wrong on any other, yet so right. Moulin Rouge meets Bohemia. Cristina looks equally charming in a childish way – a loose buttoned tank over denim shorts – billowy in the wind, the movement of the fabric giving a that demure sensuality.

Surely María is a troubled soul; but besides the first snapshot of her, this still is my favorite. Even in her distress and, well, insanity, her crazed hair is stunning. Tousled in the right way possible. And the black dress is divine – black, simple, and oh-so-sexy as any LBD should. Of course she acts as proof that bags make the outfit; in any other tote or duffel María would have been just another woman in any given movie. But it is that fringed black bag (I am now lusting for one like that!) and the rather unconventional tiger briefcase that makes her her. That, darlings, is the beauty of accessories.

There is something about the bags in Vicky Cristina Barcelona that is so perfectly styled to make it all the more unconventional and bohemian. I find the bags to be what makes each woman and each ensemble in this movie. Something about cross-body bags have become increasingly alluring – I have been partial to re-attaching my Balenciaga’s shoulder strap to tote it around in that fashion. And the fringed hobos María Elena is seen carrying – the black calls for me. Oh, and cameras too. An old camera for the perfect, avant-garde look. I see it as an accessory.

The hair, the bags, the clothes.

The simplicity, the beauty, the bohemian air.

Completely and utterly  o b s e s s e d .

Bisous,

La C.