I think I have a style crush on Marion Cotillard. When she won the Oscar last year, I clearly remember standing in the shower the next morning, washing my hair and thinking to myself, "I REALLY liked her dress." I don't generally do that. Sure, some dresses are memorable -- Nicole Kidman's chartreuse Dior, and the yellow Vera Wang that Michelle Williams wore the year she was nominated for Brokeback Mountain stuck with me -- but usually they go in one eye and out the other, you know? But so far into her Public Enemies press tour, I am loving her wardrobe. Let's investigate, shall we?
Exhibit A:
Pretty! Don't you want to just twirl around all up in this shit? Whoops. Sorry -- I am watching a TiVoed episode of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List and the last six sentences I've written have been accidentally overrun with expletives. You should be pretty damn impressed that I managed to get them all out so far.
Exhibit B:
Exhibit A:
Pretty! Don't you want to just twirl around all up in this shit? Whoops. Sorry -- I am watching a TiVoed episode of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List and the last six sentences I've written have been accidentally overrun with expletives. You should be pretty damn impressed that I managed to get them all out so far.
Exhibit B:
This is veering into the brave and I want it. It's so flattering and interesting and she's so pretty and French and she's kind of got a quasi-beehive and the whole thing makes me want to leap on a Vespa and laugh gaily while Johnny Depp (why not?) drives us both away to a tiny cafe where we smoke and drink aperitifs and he tells me what it was like to get sucked into bed during Nightmare on Elm Street. That would only be the best day ever.
