Every so often something truly great comes along and I'm gushingly grateful. Something that evokes an emotional response of the extraordinary kind, as in not the kind of the thing you experience in day to day life, and connects with a part of you you would almost forget existed if it wasn't so thrillingly nudged every now and then. (Say what? In short, I lose it for beautiful things that tap into a dream state and I can't tell you why. I don't know exactly.)
Photographer and film maker Alice Hawkins made The Good Life which showcases some of the best of AW 2010, it's a moving editorial of sorts. But for me this film is not about fashion.
This is how it's described on Showstudio (yes, them again. What can I do, they're awesome):
"Proper doesn't have to mean prim - Alice Hawkins gives the bourgeoisie mood of the A/W 2010 collections a terribly British spin in a tongue-in-chic ode to Margot Leadbetter, Beverly Moss and quintessentially English class consciousness."
I didn't grow up here so I don't know the 70s TV show after which this film is named, I don't have a reference for Margot Leadbetter, and Google can't seem to tell me who Beverly Moss is, though something tells me I should know. But that's all fine, I prefer no context for this film. As I mentioned I'm not viewing this as a fashion film, though it's tough to ignore the familiar outfits, and the fact that I fell in love with that Dior ribboned sweater on the catwalk, the one that the wonderful Jean Sherman is wearing at her vanity table (which looks a bit different on her).
The Good Life is like David Lynch doing the The Housewives of Orange County (without the boob jobs, trout pouts, useless husbands and ingrate kids). It's a bit film noir and completely dreamlike. The way Hawkins shot it is dramatic and stunning, she plays with light and dark to create the passage of time - the bright, waking sun of dawn with birds chirping, the washed out look of dusk, and the deep shadows of a mysterious night. Yet her passage of time doesn't necessarily make any sense, all weaving in and out in quick seconds and at the same time dragging slowly, which is a huge part of its appeal. Any of the scenes in The Good Life could be seamlessly edited into Lost Highway or Mulholland Drive.
The film also taps into the standard feminine idealism - perfect house, clothes, hair, family, life - and every waking second is bliss, all smug smiles of true contentment. It's as if their air is not the same as the one we breathe. Why, they don't even need it! They exist on a different, Lynch-esque plane.
I imagine Hawkins asked her cast? subjects? to play the impossibly glamorous, self-satisfied woman. But something tells me, if their stories are true, that they felt right at home and quite deserving of such a portrayal.
After writing the previous paragraph I read this, which would have me believe these women are indeed only a slightly less exaggerated version of their 'characters' and that's exactly why they were chosen. I don't think Hawkins like actors, she's intrigued by real people and exaggerating their fun parts. The article also touches upon why the film reminded me of pageants - the unnatural poses, the frozen smiles, and the complete and utter belief in what they portray, which I would sum up as nothing. If you asked them to stand there and smile without moving for a whole hour, they would, no questions asked. Hawkins is into all of that, "she's attracted to those who 'make an effort'". Works for me.
a slender tunic suit with a slim skirt that later
became more of a dropped waist tubular twenties style dress with a
hemline that was creeping upwards.
