After posting about 9/11, I needed to switch gears away from sadness. I wish I could do Hatha Yoga or Transcendental Meditation or the Hokey Pokey to release serotonin (the neurotransmitter that makes your brain happy) but what works best for me isn’t psychological, physiological, or pharmaceutical.
It’s tangible. I need a dose of fashion/clothes/shoes—whether at the mall, in a magazine, or in video form. Here’s my Filosophy about this method of brain therapy: It’s less fattening and less guilt producing than a carton of Dreyer’s. Shoes may cost more than ice cream, but they last longer. One pair can provide pick-me-up results many times over. Eventually I will load the shoes on the United Cerebral Palsy truck that cruises my neighborhood bimonthly. Then another woman (lucky for her if she’s a Size 9!) gets to partake of my brain-enhancement technique. As we ladies know, even hand-me-down shoes are way more fun than an empty food carton. (That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.)
I decided to watch the documentary (new on DVD) about Italian fashion designer Valentino, famous for his red gowns, celebrity clientele, and career longevity in a fickle and fast-changing industry. The film is aptly titled Valentino: The Last Emperor. He and I have a lot in common. I own a pair of Valentino sunglasses I purchased at Costco. If you like looking at haute couture dresses, this is the film for you. If you like buying them, head to Rome. If you like to be a lookie-loo into the lifestyles of the rich and well-dressed, there’s plenty to look at here.
The documentary follows Valentino during his 45th year in the fashion industry—and ends with a giant hoopla of an anniversary party. I enjoyed it first because I liked Valentino. He called himself a dreamer (my favorite kind of person). I expected him to be more fussy or eccentric (or maybe those parts were edited out), but he seemed low-keyed for an artistic type. I have more snit fits than that guy—and nobody calls me a creative genius. He displayed a quiet confidence in his designing abilities and fashion taste, which is maybe why he didn’t project a “Devil Wears Valentino” type ego. Also, it encourages me when I see people pursue their passion in life with vigor and determination—especially if they are in their seventies and highly successful!
Valentino said he never wanted to be a fireman or anything else when he grew up except for a dress designer. And what was his first exposure into this world of glitz and glamour? Hollywood movies, of course. The documentary showed a clip from a Busby Berkeley musical, Ziegfeld Girls (1941). Valentino said the beautiful actresses in their beautiful gowns, like Lana Turner and Hedy Lamar, inspired him. An American designed those dresses. I get a kick out of the fact that one of the world’s most renown fashion designers was inspired by a guy from Connecticut.
The film offers a glimpse into the fashion industry: the design process, the seamstresses and their hand sewing, the set design for fashion shows, the flurry of frocks. I learned why haute couture gowns scrape the ground—women’s ankles should NOT be seen when walking in a fancy-schmancy dress. Who knew? I’d be more worried about the hem getting filthy dirty than showing ankles.
There’s also a glimpse into the fashion business: the sale of the House of Valentino to a corporate conglomerate and the intrusion of the moneymen—which causes the inevitable clash of art and commerce. Money always wins. The new CEO says, “We have to take care of figures, not only style.” (No red gown for you, mister!)
But the best part was the relationship between Valentino and his one-time lover and long-time business partner Giancarlo, which is approaching 50 years. The friendship, respect, support, acceptance, love, and pet care shown between the two was most endearing. Everyone should have a bond with someone the kind that these two have with each other. Valentino expresses his gratitude to Giancarlo in a lovely speech after accepting the French Legion of Honor Medal in a ceremony in France. The look on both their faces was worth more than a boatload of haute couture dresses.
I definitely was not feeling sad when the film ended. In fact, I was in such a good mood, I zipped over to EBay and searched on “Vintage Valentino.” A seller from Dallas had just listed a beautiful Valentino houndstooth blazer—in my size. It was fate. Plus it was only $20! I immediately snapped it up. I will wear it, not in the spirit of la-ti-da fashion, but in the spirit of good old-fashioned friendship.
Gorgeous dresses:
http://chicinparis.wordpress.com/2008/02/04/valentino-a-tribute-to-timelessness/
The Valentino documentary trailer:
http://www.valentinomovie.com/#home/
Valentino’s original inspiration:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyuTSmAzdJk/
The American costume designer for Ziegfeld Girl:
http://www.filmreference.com/Writers-and-Production-Artists-A-Ba/Adrian-Gilbert.html/
