Ageless Audrey

Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in Sabrina (Paramount, 1954)

Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn in Love In The Afternoon (Allied Artists, 1957)

Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire in Funny Face (Paramount, 1957)

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn in Charade (Universal, 1963)

Audrey Hepburn and William Holden in Paris When It Sizzles (Paramount, 1964)

Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady (Warner Bros., 1964)

Among her many talents: teaching old dogs new tricks.

Fruggin' Out With My Baby

How unflappably dapper and elegant was Fred Astaire? So dapper and elegant, that he could dance with a mini-skirted partner half his age amid retro-mod scenery, and still come off as timelessly cool rather than hopelessly kitsch. In his honor, we're putting on our top hat, tails, and go-go boots right now.

 

 

FRED ASTAIRE

May 10, 1899 - June 22, 1987

Funny Face, Revisited

Growing up, we were transfixed by the flickering, glamorous images presented on the late, late show; we would set our alarm clock for 2:00 am, to catch even a heavily-edited presentation of anything from Marie Antoinette (1938) to Queen of Outer Space (1958). As technology slowly grew, we would program the VCR to tape practically every pre-1970 film that showed up on television. And then, in turn, we began collecting DVDs, downloading movies on the Internet (legally!), or even finding rarities on YouTube. But we only knew most of these vintage films, classic or obscure, as relatively small images on a TV screen, a computer monitor, or now, an iPod or iPhone. One of the reasons we love being in Manhattan, is the opportunity we get to see quite a few classic films on the big screen, often in lovingly-restored prints at Lincoln Center, MoMA, or Film Forum. And until you've seen these films as they were originally intended to be seen, you're really only getting a fraction of the enjoyment.


On November 3, the Film Society of Lincoln Center kicked off a week-long Stanley Donen festival with his classic 1957 musical, Funny Face, starring Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire, and Kay Thompson. The pleasures of this screening were many: for starters, the print was an eye-popping, digitally restored archival print direct from Paramount. Thompson's legendary "Think Pink!" production number has never looked better, or pinker. Second, Mr. Donen was in the audience -- we sat right behind him, Mike Nichols, and Elaine May. Third, viewing this movie, so beloved from our childhood, on the literally big, wide screen was eye-opening and thought-provoking in unexpected ways.


Our most striking observation was that the story is practically nonexistent, even for a frothy musical; the writing just isn't particularly good or compelling. Audrey Hepburn's Jo Stockton character is so sketchily drawn, it's a testament to Hepburn's personal magnetism and sheer loveliness that she somehow maintains the audience's affection: as the dowdy bookstore clerk, Jo is borderline irritating, rattling on about the Jean Paul Sartre-esque philosophy she follows, denouncing the fashion world as shallow and without meaning. Then, Jo slips into her first Givenchy gown, and is immediately converted to commercialism. Then she denounces it again, only to finally dance off into the sunset with Astaire -- and a Givenchy gown. Say wha -- ? Mr. Donen, when interviewed by Mike Nichols after the screening, commented himself that he felt "uncomfortable" with any scene not involving a musical number, as he didn't feel they were written well, either. Our personal fond memories of the film were basically bullet points: "Think Pink"! The Richard Avedon-inspired montages! The Givenchy fashions! The Gershwin songs! Dovima! We'd forgotten the flaws -- or maybe just never noticed them as much when watching it on television.


On a more positive note, the film was a wonderful showcase for Kay Thompson, and we left wondering why the hell she didn't become the biggest star in the universe after Funny Face. Of course, we always adored her "Think Pink!" number; but beyond that, our memories of her, and the film as a whole, were blurred. Thompson really is a major part of the film, and whenever she's on screen, she blows everyone, Astaire and Hepburn included, completely away. She's the best thing about the group number, "Bonjour, Paris!"; completely overshadows Audrey on "How to Be Lovely"; and is positively incendiary with Astaire on "Clap Yo' Hands" -- which is really more of a showcase for her, and Astaire wisely and gentlemanly lets her steal the stage.


Any disappointments we had in revisiting Funny Face on the big screen were outweighed, though, by the sheer delight in seeing it so gorgeously presented; by the excitement of almost "discovering" Kay Thompson for the first time; by those gorgeous Givenchy gowns; and by the final, still-heartrending scene of Fred and Audrey being reunited at the world's loveliest church to the strains of "S'wonderful." And, of course, being able to sit behind Stanley Donen. It really doesn't get any better than that.

We Remember Johnny Mercer

Weekly Feature #9

I is for... Inspiration (versus Imitation).

Lana Turner looks horrified at the suggestion that her Jean Louis original may be an Imitation of Life.

When we were clumsily forming our own taste and style, back in the Dark Ages prior to the Internet, we were pretty much on our own, armed only with movies and GQ magazine as guideposts. The results weren't always great (in fact, they were largely awful), but we made our mistakes, learned from them, and gradually developed our sense of self and, consequently, our sense of style.

In the 1980's, GQ was our life raft of style. Somehow, we survived.

Today, we marvel at the sharp, shiny, cookie-cutter pristineness of modern teenagers who flawlessly mimic the looks they've seen on Gossip Girl and The Hills. In some ways, we slightly envy the bevy of information available at their fingertips in this media-saturated age: simply copying, look for look and lock for lock, the "style" of these celebrities goes a long way towards smoothing out the bumps of what used to be the awkward years. We've seen 13 year old girls looking like eerie Rachel Zoe clones, and their 14 year old boyfriends sporting Zac Efron-worthy styled hair.

Reader, beware: choose your influences wisely.

On the flip side, such camp following eradicates any individual style whatsoever, in two ways: not only can a slavish copy of someone else's look (or, for that matter, a shop mannequin, or magazine layout) never be truly chic, because it won't have the intangible quality of individuality; but the generic style "icons" (quotation marks pointedly and emphatically used) most people are copying these days are themselves are largely products of stylists, and high-profile shills for designers hawking their wares to the engrossed readers of In Style and US Weekly.

When it comes to style, inspiration should never be confused with imitation.

Since we're not completely immune to the 21st century, and its insistence on sound byte-sized snippets of information, here is a list of what's been inspiring us lately. What has been, we emphasize, not who.

• Interiors. Thanks to our darling Toby Worthington, our interest in the elegance of hearth and home has quadrupled. A well-ordered, well-proportioned, elegantly-appointed room is probably the most difficult thing to achieve, so now, when we see one that we like, we get inspired by its colors and lines. A magnificent New York townhouse done in shades of pumpkin and aubergine made our mouth water; Mr. Worthington's flawless living room in greens and yellows had a similar effect. Both color combinations have made their way into our wardrobe.
  
  
  Helena Rubinstein also endorses pumpkin and aubergine.
  
  Texture. We've been playing with this element a lot more lately, especially as the weather turns cool, and layering is possible. Our white-and-black mini houndstooth check suit, in luxuriously comfortable worsted wool, has such a soft texture, that it reads grey more than stark black and white, opening it to a whole vista of possibilities. We paired it recently with a rough-hewn lambswool vest in hunter green, moss green, and gingerbread brown argyle; a textured silk bow tie in plum with wide-spaced flecks of bronze; a wet silk pocket square in dark green, with repeating patterns in pumpkin, navy and bronze; medium-grey merino wool socks; and handmade oxford lace-ups in antiqued oak. The colors combined seamlessly, the textures played off each other beautifully, and we admittedly purred and preened in multiple compliments during the course of a delicious evening.
  
  
  Check, please: call out the houndstooth.
  
  
• Music. Music has always been one of our ruling passions; but it's become even more of an inspiration lately. Our taste has always been quite catholic, and continues to be; but even though the Great American Songbook has long been a staple in our collection, it's taken on a greater resonance of late. More specifically, we've been paring things down to the simplest approach, and really listening to the lyrics. (The simple vocal stylings of Mary Cleere Haran, Carol Sloane, Fred Astaire and Bobby Short, for instance, in their straightforwardly soigne approach, as opposed to the brasher charms of, say, Mimi Hines. [Who still has a place in our hearts, and playlists, bless her socks.]) In these turbulent times, the eloquent, elegant, romantic lyricism of Lorenz Hart, Cole Porter, Johnny Mercer and their contemporaries is a much-needed antidote, and helps us to envision the ideal gentleman we place on a pedestal.
  
  
  Mr. Astaire: dancing in the dark, never dressing in it.
  
  
• Food. We've always been obsessed with food, too; but again, we've recently taken a less-is-more approach and have been luxuriating in the pleasures of unpretentious dishes, beautifully and simply prepared. It suits our state of mind right now, as well as, we think, the current state of affairs. Who wants to eat fussy foams, miniscule macrobiotics, or overpriced omasake these days? Our current favorites: braised tripe with chickpeas; lamb stew over polenta; thin-sliced pork belly steeped in olive oil and rosemary; boiled beef in its own broth; and any perfectly-executed pasta dish. Style, really, has so much to do with being comfortable in your own skin: it follows that we gravitate towards comfort food. It isn't all champagne and caviar, dears.
  
  
  A jug of wine, a plate of pasta, and Marcello Mastroianni: timeless style, effortless cool.

Of course, there are countless other influences and inspirations which present themselves everyday, usually having to do with color: the shade of a flower has sent us around town, determined to find it in a tie or pocket square or something, anything. Nature, artwork, a snippet of dialogue, poetry or prose - anything creative, which sparks the imagination, can be the catalyst for style. We hope that SSUWAT provides a little bit of inspiration, too. One thing we've resisted doing is posting photos of our own outfits; it seems dually self-serving (a commentary of which designers we're wearing seems so smug, not to mention indiscreet) and self-defeating: the very purpose of these posts is to encourage people to hone and develop and appreciate their own individuality, not to send them running to buy an exact copy of What We're Wearing, or even to ooh and aah over the labels. Have confidence in your own style - open your eyes, your ears, your minds - and, of course, continue to watch this space, darlings!

Weekly Feature #8

H is for... Handsomeness.



Beauty is, of course, in the eye of the beholder: but it must be admitted that there are certain strains of catch-all male attractiveness which are almost universally accepted as being generically "handsome." And just as style maven Dorothy Draper once wryly noted, "There are no unconscious Helens of Troy," there are no accidental Adonises, either. But for those of us who will never be mistaken for soap opera stars or Men's Health models, take heart: by and large, the best-dressed, most elegant men in the world have rarely been the conventionally best-looking.

The illusion of perfection: Archie Leach had a pudgy face, a bull neck, crooked teeth and bow legs; but as CARY GRANT, he worked hard to achieve almost unreal standards of male elegance.

We realized early on that, in order to be considered attractive, we would have to compete on a completely different level than the jocks or pretty boys. We didn't have the luxury of a rippled body or chiseled face to fall back on; instead, how we dressed, how we presented ourselves, and the style with which we did so, became our paramount consideration.

He may not have been drop dead gorgeous, but his style was impeccable; and FRED ASTAIRE still always got the girl.

So, perhaps you realize that your jawline isn't as rock-solid as John Gavin's, your chest not up to Guy Madison standards, and your stature nowhere near as imposing as Clint Walker's. The not-devastatingly-handsome male can either become a polished, elegant gentleman a la Fred Astaire, or he can even more easily take the road frequently traveled and become a designer-clad freak show (think Carson Kressley, Elton John, Steven Cojocaru, and their ilk). Tread carefully: a woman who overdresses can sometimes be forgiven; a man with delusions of sartorial splendor (and a blithe disregard for their figure flaws) is absolutely insufferable.

CARSON KRESSLEY: Don't let this happen to you.

There is, unfortunately, no textbook or checklist on how to acquire or cultivate individual style: you have to ruthlessly, honestly assess your own flaws and assets, and adjust accordingly. Since such assessment, reinvention, and application is entirely individual, we can only relay how we transformed ourselves from duckling to swan, and hope that you can apply some of the advice and principles we offer to suit your own needs.

• We cut the fat. We will offer no diet tips or exercise hints here; as diet- and exercise-phobics, we frankly don't endorse a hard body as being something to kill yourselves acquiring (whereas we'd fight a deathmatch over, say, bespoke shoes). But it does go without saying that being physically fit and a reasonable weight makes it much easier to achieve an elegant appearance. Nearly a decade and a half ago, we lost over 80 lbs. in a conscious effort to achieve a more lithsome, and, it follows, more elegant carriage. Could we still be elegant if we hadn't? Certainly; robust Helena Rubenstein was every bit an equal for birdlike Coco Chanel in the chic department. The bottom line is, what makes you feel good about yourself? We felt more comfortable being slim, and so it was. Just as the once-ungainly Maria Callas plastered her kitchen with photographs of Audrey Hepburn as she dieted down to glamorous slimness, we envisioned the slender likes of Noel and Fred and felt they were more attainable ideals than, say, Sean Connery.
  
  
  
  NOEL COWARD may have often laid it on thick, but his physique was as trim as it could be.
  
  

• We shaved it off. We hated our hair: it was fine, thin, and just laid lank and unresponsive unless it was ratted up like a teenage Jezebel. So we finally shaved it off, and have never looked back. Fortunately, the look suits us; it's definitely not for everyone, just as close-cropped hair makes some women look impossibly chic, and others simply mannish. Again, the principle here is to discover which style suits you, and stick with it. Hairstyles will date you and your photo albums quicker than any trendy costume can. If you look at 10-15 years worth of our photos, it's near-impossible to date them by an unfortunate shag, faux-hawk, or the like. Of course, a shaved head is simplicity taken to the extreme, but it goes without saying that a simple, classic hairstyle will hold you in good stead wherever you go, at any age, in any company, at any time.
  
  
  
  
  
  1999 - 2009: a decade of TJB.
  
  
  
• We made peace with our shape - and friends with our tailor. As Joe E. Brown reassured Jack Lemmon in Some Like it Hot, "Nobody's perfect." Even after losing 80 lbs. and whittling our waistline to 29 inches, our lack of a V-shaped torso means that we nip our suit jackets and sport coats in at the waist, to create the illusion of broader shoulders and a defined waistline. Our practically non-existent backside created the necessity for wearing those jackets and sport coats, as well as having our trousers scrupulously tailored to not "sag" around the seat. Our relatively small stature (5'7") also makes us very aware of sleeve length, hem length, and ensuring that we do our best to create long visual lines, rather than "cutting ourselves in half," as it were. We try not to wear too many colors at one time, but play with shades, patterns and textures to keep things from being boring and monochromatic. And little things do mean a lot: matching the color of our socks to the color of our trousers makes our legs look longer, rather than chopped off at the ankles; keeping our jacket or sport coat buttoned shows off the illusion of a defined waistline and makes one look thinner in general.
  
  
  Little things mean some socks: TJB knows hose.
  
  
  

• We developed a "look." You wouldn't, we hope, let your best friend buy something adorable and trendy which would, however, make them look absolutely hideous. Once you've mastered the art of maxmizing your assets and minimizing your flaws, you will never allow yourself to indulge in a trend just for the sake of it, unless it happens to suit you and your style, your signature look. The world's best-dressed men and women are rarely thought of as chameleons: Babe Paley, Gianni Agnelli, the Windsors - all are revered as style icons, and all displayed sustained consistency and timelessness in their dress. Even the outrageous and irreverent Iris Apfel remained remarkably consistent in her eclectic, eccentric look. We've learned what works and doesn't work for us; and any time when we've deviated too far from that template, it never quite works out, because the look may be cute, it may be of the moment, it may be entirely correct on a fashionable level - but it's not us.
  
  
  

  Consistency, thy name is Windsor: the Duke and Duchess in 1938 and circa 1968, respectively.
  
  
  
• We accepted the fact that size does not matter. Not when it comes to our wardrobe, anyway. We'd rather have one or two impeccable outfits and wear them until they're threadbare, rather than have two dozen merely OK ensembles, or worse, a scattershot collection of disposable fashion and mismatched pieces. We've tailored our wardrobe to our lifestyle and those assets and flaws we've already identified. We buy the best we can afford, and plan ahead to ensure that as many pieces work in calibration with others in our wardrobe as possible.
  
  
  More calibrated timelessness: our vintage 1920's and 1930's wristwatches.
  
  

• We lived, lived, lived! We firmly believe that it's impossible to be a truly elegant individual with a provincial point of view. Even if circumstances dictate that you remain an armchair traveler, one must have curiosity and interest in other people, places and cultures. It's all well and good to have, as we do, an insatiable appetite for clothes and dressing well. If that's where your interests begin and end, however, you'll be a vapid mannequin, and nothing more. We feel that the art of dressing well is, indeed, an art - and our love for it is an extention of our love of beauty and the arts in general. There is as much elegance and order in a well-designed building, a well-executed sculpture, a well-written phrase, a well-planned menu as there is in an impeccably-chosen outfit.

We can honestly say that we've been considered by many, if not necessarily most, people as qualifying as "handsome" for most of our adult life, but it's a description that rests more on dint of hard work, serious self-examination and self-awareness than it does on "natural beauty." And although we more or less gave ourselves what could be termed a "makeover," what we've striven to achieve has nothing to do with silicone, makeup, or even designer labels: it has everything to do with confidence, empowerment and a willingness to accept ourselves as we are - and then accentuate our very best. There is something attractive and unique in all of us; the trick is to showcase those qualities, rather than burying them beneath tinsel, or allowing them to fade to grey in the background. Now, as we've said before: Go forth and be fabulous, darlings!

Special thanks to MR. PEACOCK.

Dandy Long Legs

With only these three outfits, our entire wardrobe would be complete.