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Monthly Archives: March 2011

variations on a trench coat: one small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a full grown man

Okay, so I’m sweating small animals right now, but this outfit was from weeks ago, when it rained for a week straight and I wore my trench coat for a week straight. That is… variations on a trench coat,

Variation II: Lembas Bread

…I was/am a Lord of the Rings movie geek. Hence the Elven Brooch.

The one where I didn’t feel like smiling, but instead pulled a facial expression so wildly unsmiling that I look like I poked myself in the eye.

Trench coat: mother’s, FoxRun. Fingerless gloves: Bancroft Clothing Store. Jeans: Forever21. Plaid shoes: Keds. Elven Brooch: Noble Collection, gift.

BY THE BY, Script Frenzy starts tomorrow. I am most anxious.

hair envy: deux

It’s been nearly a year since I last expressed my hair envy, but even though my hair’s twice as long as it was then, I definitely still feel like I’m lacking something. (Interest. My hair lacks any point of interest.) Here are a bunch of hair pictures I’ve been gathering just to rub it in.

Beginning with natural-looking hair that could be achieved by someone with a hair texture different from mine. This is Joanna Bernacka, here to make your hair feel inadequate.
The mussed-up volume! The soft waves! The lived-in-ness!

Rumi’s head in double braids (how is this even possible?), because there’s something appealingly alien about really tight braids, especially in unexpected places.

Feather hair extensions. Not my style, but I’d be lying if I said that seeing it on other people didn’t inspire major hair envy in me. Now, before we move into unnatural hair color territory, I’d just like to take a moment (or thirty) to let my hair envy bubble and splutter at the injustice of NOT HAVING HAIR LIKE THESE LADIES:

Have I mentioned that I have major redhead envy? Because my name is Samantha, and I have major redhead envy.

Not sure what era this hair would fall under (1920s judging by the length and perhaps finger waves?), but this is perfect in at least 47 ways.

Life is not fair.

NOT FAIR. If I wore a giant fur coat in the same color family as my hair, I would just look like any all-black-wearing fashion editor, not a quirky ass-kicking artist.

This is Vanessa from My heart blogged. WHAT IS HER HAIR EVEN. LOOK AT THAT IMPOSSIBLE TEXTURE.

This is Amber from Forever Amber. She is 13 shades of redhead PERFECT.

Jane, from Sea of Shoes, of course, because her hair is (or at least should be) legendary. It should be celebrated or described in a non-historical or unverifiable story handed down by tradition from earlier times and popularly accepted as historical. [source, source]

Stop it. Just stop it. This color is unreal. Jane Aldridge is not a real person. She is a hair goddess sent to live on earth among us mortals.

I can feel my hair’s self-esteem stumbling into the gutter in a haze of hairspray-ethyl-alcohol, gambling, and loose women.

Flawless hair is flawless. When you are done weeping over your inadequate hair, pick yourself up and dust yourself off, because there is hope, and its name is UNNATURAL COLORING:

This is Chanelle from Not So Naked. I know it’s kind of late for dip dye hair, but I want it. In shades of violet, dark blue, and sea green, so that I can feel like a Creature of the Deep is swimming around my head.

Augh. Her color even fades well.

Then again, if I dyed my hair like this, it wouldn’t look the same anyway. The texture would be much more Severus Snape Dipped In Oil Meets Ceramic Flat Iron than Careless, Carefree, Calculated Nonchalance.

The photo that started my fishtail braid curiosity.

And of course, peacock-colored hair. With little plastic hairclips that I probably wore without irony when I was four.

I don’t think I could ever go this light without looking sickly, but be still, my beating heart! This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

variations on a trench coat: ass-kicking edition

Because it rained for (I think) a week straight, my ratio of trench-coated vs. trench-coatless outfits is a little skewed right now, which is why I’m posting these trench coat outfits out of chronological order.

I was reading “Variations on the Death of Trotsky” by David Ives at the mall the other day, and I burst out laughing. In public. Alone. So since I have quite a few variations on this trench coat, here is

Variation I: The Ass-Kicking Edition

(No mountain-climbers’ axes, ice picks, or Spanish gardeners were involved in the making of this post, although I did feel like I could kick someone’s axe ass while wearing this.)

Hoodie: Nomis, gift. Trench: FoxRun, mother’s. Fingerless gloves: Bancroft Clothing Store. Jeans: Forever21. Rain boots: Hunter.

notes, or I make no claims about this being a fashion/style blog.

On Sky Ferreira's "American Dream"
I came across it through Bella's tumblr. You ought to give it a listen.

On responses to "How are things?"
If neither you nor your fellow interlocutor is British, regardless of how you actually feel, "smashing" is generally an appropriate and unexpected response.

On staving off despair
It is unwise to time your media consumption so that you finish reading Never Let Me Go the same day you finish watching The Thin Red Line.

On Script Frenzy
I am going to try not to fail.*

*Since I am pledging to participate in Script Frenzy, (which, if you haven't heard of it and can't be bothered to click through, is like NaNoWriMo, but for scripts, screenplays, and graphic novels, instead of novels, and set in April, instead of** November), I'm not sure what's going to happen to the script I promised myself I would finish. I'll probably end up adding any new advances on it to my total page count, but I make no promises about posting any of it. Not that many of you will be bothered by that.


On reading about celebrities
I have resolved to stop reading and watching interviews of actors I like. They are just people, and I would rather just view their work, free from my judgment about what kind of people they are, than miss out on something great because I think Joseph Gordon-Levitt sounds pretentious in his interviews. (Which, okay, I think he does. But he was so terrible in Inception and so good in Brick and Mysterious Skin. I am conflicted.)

On my class notes from lecture
Sometimes I write enigmatic things like "Can a snowman be set on fire?" and "Can gasoline be frozen?" and "Cabbage. I hear that's what English boarding school smells like." Sometimes I feel sad that I haven't photographed my class notes in ages, so I do, because this blog is for me, and then I get happy again.

For clarification, I drew Harry Potter, Steven drew the robot thing's head, and I added clothes and a hairy hook-arm. And the handwriting is Steven's, because he usurped my notebook to "take notes for me" because I barely take notes in that particular class anyway. I am pretty sure that if Steven ever took notes in class, they would look like Mark Zuckerberg's deposition scene notes.

Steven's doing. It is amazing how confusing one's notes can be when one goes back to study them for a midterm.

Also Steven's. I think maybe this was his rendition of Leibniz. I tweeted mine.


Steven insists on drawing little hats on everything. Even on the hats.

…I don't know.

I was drawing a unicorn, then Steven drew this, and it looked sad and unhorselike, so I added sparkles and dramatic lines.

I just want to clarify that I didn't draw that girl on the side, and this blog is not a Steven appreciation blog, but this post kind of is a Steven appreciation post, because THIS IS OUR LOVECHILD. It is the most glorious doodle that has ever been doodled in glory. The day it came into existence was the Best Day Ever. Evidently, we were also learning about Turing's halting problem that day, but that was clearly a secondary consideration, in light of our mythical creation.

CRUSH: Andrew Garfield

“just being a whore, really – a prostitute for hire”

Andrew Garfield, on getting work as an actor

Aside from possessing Bambi eyes and a smile the size and brightness of a small supernova, Andrew Garfield doesn’t really have much going for him.  He’s not chiseled-handsome like your conventional Hollywood leading man, he’s lanky, his untamable fury of hair has its own personality, and he’s worked with Heath Ledger, Meryl Streep, Spike Jonze, and David Fincher but never been nominated for an Oscar.

…Say hello to your new Spider-Man?

That’s not to say there isn’t a lot to love about Andrew Garfield.  For your consideration, some reasons to fall in love with his pasty British-American ass (on full display in Red Riding: 1974, for reference), in bite-size, bullet-point form:

  • His middle name is Russell, which means “little red,” which is uncannily appropriate for the man who starred in Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 as Eddie Dunford, a fresh young newspaper reporter who, um, cries and smokes and has a lot of sex.  (Okay, that’s not what the movie is about, but I got distracted by Andrew Garfield’s robust and impressive 1970s sideburns.)
  • Speaking of which, he’s done some really admirable work as a performer and artist, and while I can’t recommend without reservation every film he’s been in for their sheer entertainment value, I am willing to give you my word that he is a joy to watch.  He is an actor acting, and it manifests most clearly in the physicality of each of his characters.  From the way his swagger breaks over the course of Red Riding, to the “sweet looking Brazilian sophomore” who improvised his Caribbean Night shimmy in The Social Network, to the disbelieving eagerness, the suppressed guilt, the tenderness of Jack in Boy A, and the painful tension of someone who is barely holding the pieces of himself together in Never Let Me Go – Andrew Garfield delivers.
  • In his delightfully meta role as an actor in The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, he wears a fat-suit and a dress (yes, at the same time) and demands fisticuffs (yes, “fisticuffs”) with a mobster.
  • Other than his physicality in the aforementioned movies, the emotional content of each of those roles and the journey each of his characters goes through is remarkable.  He is so open and eager and fearless, especially in Boy A and Never Let Me Go (in both of which he is, admittedly, very emotional and actorly).

Now that we’ve established that Andrew Garfield is a fantastic actor/artist, what else is there to love?  Let me lay it out for you.

  • His British accent.
  • His incredible head of hair (which, seriously, he must have a personal sculptor for or something).
  • He did gymnastics as a child and says he had a “horribly traumatic experience where this fat guy sat on my back while I was doing the splits.”
  • He burst into tears watching the trailer for The Tree of Life.
  • He honestly doesn’t want to be famous.  In a radio interview with BBC’s Radio 1, he straight-up said, “Seriously, this is all none of your business” when his interviewer asked what school he attended and his date of graduation.  Sure, it made for an awkward moment (during which The Social Network co-star Justin Timberlake gave him some serious side-eye), but it just goes to show that Andrew Garfield would rather have you pay attention to his work than to him.
  • Growing up, he was the skinny kid who got picked on, which is a big part of his reason for wanting to take on the role of Peter Parker in The Amazing Spider-Man.
  • He has a serious!actor background in theater.
  • He always wants to be auditioning for roles, because he thinks struggling is how you get better at your work.  True, he’s been very lucky in that his struggling wasn’t very long-lived, but he’s also immensely talented.
  • Andrew Garfield, on the gay character he portrayed onstage in Beautiful Thing: “Love is love whether between a man and a woman, a woman and a woman, or a man and a man.”
  • He said in an interview that out of his entire life, the moment he felt most like a man was while working on The Social Network as Eduardo Saverin, in “the breakup scene” where he smashed at least 15 laptops to get the shot, because he completely let go of what other people thought.
  • Bambi eyes.

So what if he films better than he photographs?  So what if 76% of the time, he doesn’t look a day older than 18?  Andrew Garfield loves his craft, he’s acted in some incredible roles, he’s one of the more artistically respectable members of young Hollywood, and if his previous work is anything to judge by, his Spider-Man will be heroic, complicatedly human, and a figure of hope for every outcast skinny boy-geek out there.

And that’s hot.

Written in March 2011 for Bella‘s zine, Fille de l’emeute.