Happy Memorial Day Weekend!
Can we talk?
I feel the need. There was a story in the news this week of a kerfuffle at Cannes when some female guests chose to wear flats to the screening of Cate Blanchett’s film “Carol” and were summarily turned away. Apparently the C.F.F. dress code states women must wear high heels. Granted, in the realm of important news, this does not dwell…however the more I pondered the pedicament (see what I did there?) the more interesting it became. Is Blanchett’s film good? I don’t even know, and to the point, I heard much more about “Flatgate” than the audience’s response to the screening.
My knee-jerk reaction was how silly, how petty, how… crazy is that?! How many times have I attended perhaps not a formal, but ‘dressy’ event sans stilettos ? My husband will say (not so jokingly) a lot. I’ll cop to fairly often but with a caveat-I never wear inappropriate shoes. Jamais! If I’m not wearing heels it’s because I’ve deemed my footwear- a glittery wedge, a strappy flat sandal, or a low heeled boot to be the chicest choice. Based on style rather than comfort because trust me, I will wear an uncomfortable shoe. Not to an event where I’ll be on my feet all night, like a concert-I’m not that much of a fashion martyr, but I’ll suffer a pinch in a pinch if silhouette dictates. What happens under the table stays under the table.
The opening scene in “Roman Holiday”
But back to the festival and Flatgate. There’s no doubt the heels for women rule was originally implemented as a gesture of respect for the films and filmmakers and to encourage a glamorous ambience.
Is that so terrible?
Sophia at Cannes
Jane Birkin then…
and at the closing ceremony tonight. No heels and no tie 😉
Sticking with the program…
Fan Bingbing at Cannes last week. (Do they ask to check under your hem??)
All men attending the evening are also required to adhere to black tie dress code, even the paparazzi. This photo of Colin Farrell (so cute) was taken at a photo call earlier this week.
Alas, while there are still many celebs who seem to nail it every time, like Julianne Moore, in my humble opinion the red carpet has become a bit of a tacky ‘Who wore it Least’ contest. Why is it acceptable to arrive with your bum completely visible but heels are still insisted upon?
I shouldn’t really get started…oh woops, too late.
The sheer, quite literally, desperation to be ‘Most Photographed’, at whatever cost to one’s dignity, has wrestled good taste to the ground and won.
I don’t even know who this is, nor do I care, but speaking of shoes…
I’ll spare you the visual of some of the worst offenders.
People no longer dress appropriately for the theatre or opera either. Shouldn’t there be some difference between attire for a sporting event and the theatre? The productions are so costly and gorgeous, many theatres elegant and the actors and musicians all work so very hard- Is it really that much of a pain to put on a jacket or, I swear to God, pants??!
I was in NY a couple of weeks ago and was lucky enough to see “The King and I” starring Kelli O’Hara and Ken Watanabe.
I must say it’s the most beautiful production. And I don’t love musicals, but of course it’s such a classic and you’ll be surprised at how many of the songs will stir your heartstrings-either again, or for the first time. Ms. O’Hara is perfect as always, so is the rest of the cast and the set design is stunning.
I know you might be thinking ‘who could ever play Yul Brunner’s role??’
Uhh…Ken Watanabe, that’s who.
And if you’ve read the reviews that say you can only understand 1/2 of what he’s saying- not true. You’ll understand probably 75-80%. (It’s his singing that is difficult to understand and he only has a couple of songs)
Plus, it doesn’t matter.
Not a bit.
So here’s the thing; It’s super difficult to procure good theatre tickets to a hot show in NY as you know, but we managed to buy two for the Sunday matinee. It’s a girl’s day out with Older Son’s girlfriend “Lady C.”. My husband and son are going to The Mets game. It’s a gorgeous sunny day so C. and I decide to walk from my midtown hotel to Lincoln Centre. Ironically (which brings us full circle-ta da!) as we’re going to a posh theatre and we’re seeing Ken Watanabe and he might spot us from the stage, see my shoes, ask us to come back and meet him and discuss how I fell in love with his character in “The Last Samurai” and about how I never thought anyone could take the part of Yul, but yes, he definitely has, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, I wear heels. New heels. Not high, nothing too needy, but the key word being ‘new’.
By intermission Ken still hasn’t sent us an invitation and I have shredded white paper cocktail napkins sticking out of my open-toed shoes. I’ve made the elegant style choice of napkins over toilet paper. Meanwhile, there’s a man in the front row, stage right, wearing short shorts. The FRONT ROW. A very, very large man with very, very white legs. I mean…my baby toes are on fire and this guy couldn’t even be bothered to put fricking pants on? Hello, no wonder Ken hasn’t asked us backstage. Forget about flash photography, those big white legs at the foot of the stage were probably blinding the King.
Needless to say, we taxied back and now I have to hope Mr. Watanabe will read this post to learn of my admiration.
I don’t know…perhaps this is just what getting older is about?? Great. A year from now, jetpack drones may be imbedded into butt implants, publicity desperate celebrities will be flying onto the red carpet and my grievance with gratuitous ass cleavage will seem quaint.
Time waits for no woman, but in the meantime, I would love to hear your thoughts.
Story on “Flatgate”
Enjoy the rest of your weekend and I hope you get the opportunity to thank, or better yet, hug someone who has served. We did 🙂