Friday Style Guys: Dirty Harry

I find I get more outfit inspiration from guys than I do from girls. I’m not really sure what it is–maybe there’s less competition, maybe it’s easier to see the different components of the outfit. I do contend that if I were a guy, I’d be pretty dang well dressed. (But have no desire to dress in a masculine way. Weird, huh?)

So, in order to bring some more masculine style that’s not from The Sartorialist, I thought I’d do a profile on a different stylish guy each Friday (the day chosen because, yes, I love assonance just that much). And by “profile,” I mean I’ll blather on a little bit about what catches my attention, nothing scientific or incredibly deep.

We’ll start things off with Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry. Harry is the quintessential tough guy in a suit. He’s tough, he’s blunt, but he still manages to squeak by in civilized society (despite wearing work boots instead of dress shoes). He doesn’t forget such details as the patterned ties or that burgundy sweater. I love the contrast between his starched white shirt and the dirt that has accumulated on his lapels.

Mostly, it’s his attitude that makes the difference between Harry-the-normal-detective and Harry-the-badass. If he didn’t have such a hardness, or such swagger, he’d end up more like Alec Baldwin’s Jack Ryan, somebody a little more suit-y. It’s refreshing to see in action that it is one’s attitude that makes clothes what they are, and not the clothes themselves.

A.McQueen, Pt. 1

I adore Alexander McQueen. His fall/winter 2006 collection was my gateway drug to fashion (he made me like plaid!). I don’t really know how to say this without sounding pretentious, but I think we’re very similar in how we view things–both very romantic and very cynical. Most of all, I like how he presents  wearable clothes in unpredictable ways, which is why he’s one of the only designers I mark on my calendar during fashion week. I’m always excited for his shows.

His fall/winter 2009 collection, though? Made me ill. I had never really understood how clothes could create a mood until I flipped through style.com last spring–the combination of garish, unnatural makeup and harsh clothes made me feel physically repulsed. The show created a scary, disconcerting feeling that I, and nearly everybody else it seems, wasn’t prepared for.

Of course, all this reflected in reviews–how he’s doing a retrospective, or reflecting on the state of the economy, blah blah blah. Whatever. What got me was all the buzz about “porn star lips,” “sex doll lips”…stop. What? No.

Porn star lipstick with the pale skin and those clothes? Doesn’t add up. The scifi geek in me knew what was up. Alexander McQueen discovered Firefly. The trash on the set and hats, the grotesque silhouettes, the disfiguring makeup, it all adds up to one thing: Reavers.








I see what you did there, Mr McQueen. You can’t fool me–trying to pass off your closet scifi habit on weird fashion fetishes. You didn’t think anyone else would notice? Psh.

Clearly, there is one lesson to be learned here (and from this post): Fashionistas need to watch more scifi.

[Images courtesy of style.com and c-k.net]

Whyyyyyy does this harness have to cost $275? It is the first really out-there harness concoction that I can actually see myself wearing, and for just a second I got my hopes up. A harness like that would be perfect for adding shape to dresses that don’t quite work with my figure. I really like how it emphasizes  the shoulders, but not in an obnoxious way.

I’ll just add it to my ridiculously long DIY list. Real ones are available at Shrimpton Couture. [via Susie Bubble]

ETA: It has a back!

In other news, I’m soon heading to New Mexico for my cousin’s wedding. It’s going to be mega-hot, and I’m trying to pack the coolest possible classy wardrobe for the occasion. I’ll post photos as soon as I can get my hands on a camera.

Lest you think I’ve quit posting

I haven’t. Just not here. It’s complicated, but let me sum up.

I have a huge fear of forgetting things. It has followed me my whole life, resulting in boxes of old school papers still under my bed, stacks of old magazines and scraps of papers with nothing decipherable written on them my purse. On the internet, this phobia manifests itself in manymanymany tabs open in my browser at once, and a freakishly long scroll in my bookmarks. Lately, I’ve been trying to sum up this links in posts here, but that seems too clunky and needs more organization than I’m willing to give it.

So I turned to tumblr. It has become a semi-real time stream of links and quotes and photos I know I’ll want to remember someday, a sort of virtual inspiration board. I’m also trying to upload some of the more random photos I have saved on my hard drive that are just taking up space.

That’s all! Click, look, love.