unfuckwithable.ca

fuckyeahquebec:

You bought your shirt at Club Monaco and then you had a light brunch at a hipster joint in the Mile End. Fuck Yeah Middle Class Montreal Woman!

garconniere:

OMG PIERRE TRUDEAU PAPER DRESSSSSSSSSS (via Pierre Trudeau paper dress 1968 Liberal convention by kickshaw)

Relevant to my life wife.

This film popped up on my “suggested documentaries” list on Netflix, so I figured I’d give it a watch since it’s about an industry I’m in no way a part of (unless you count my photography/photojournalism), and if it turned out badly, I have eight seasons of Spooks lined up in my queue to fall asleep too.

First, not that I usually make generalizations about people in certain professions, but every model was portrayed as smarter, more refined, and more polite than most of my maybe slightly less attractive, multiple graduate degree having ex-girlfriends.  (Spoiler alert: The subject of the film, Sara Ziff, ends up retiring and going to Columbia.)

Secondly, every woman looks similar without makeup and hairstyling and while bathing and having just woken up or being dead tired - beautiful.  In the same odd way that my hair tends to look better after 3-5 days between showers, every model looked superb in the many candid shots and interviews.  They almost looked worse with all of the makeup and crystal meth-addled hairstyling before each show.  (I say that knowing both several crystal meth-addled hairstylists and totally/relatively sober hairstylists.)

Third, the fashion weeks in New York, Paris and Milan look absolutely exhausting.  All of the travel, little to no sleep, (sometimes) painful poking and prodding and lots of needles to get the garments in the right place reminds me a lot of all of the medical treatments and tests I put myself through.  (Except mine’s nowhere near as glamorous - quite the opposite, in fact.)  I have a new found respect for those who can put themselves through all of that stress and insanity in such a short period of time.  Models have my eternal praise, and genuine respect for their form of art.

Fourth, the working conditions (‘glamour’ notwithstanding) seemed awful.  How they were treated by agencies, lawyers, accountants, stylists, designers and photographers was downright degrading, humiliating and disrespectful.  Now I know why Kate Moss was into the Bolivian marching powder and I don’t shame her one bit.  (I don’t shame anyone for that, actually.)

All in all, a pretty good documentary (I rated it 5/5 stars), despite the use of non-HD video quality, although cost is obviously a concern.  And I also would love to have more good model friends and/or date more models like these, who are classy, polite, hard-working and beautiful.  But my idea of physical beauty isn’t to compare every woman to impossible standards.  And, most importantly, I lack the game required to pull it off.

EVERY CANADIAN INDIE ROCK GROUP EVER, or OLYMPIC ATHLETES?

You decide.