For the Love of Lisbeth

I realize that I'm late to the party, as is my custom. I'm late to everything. Stieg Larsson's novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has been wildly popular for quite some time, and I just finished it last week. Its insane popularity may have made me reluctant to jump on the bandwagon. (After being traumatized by the likes of Twilight, I try to veer away from what the masses are reading.) But when the American version of the GWTDT movie premiered, my curiosity was sparked. I HAD to read the book before I saw it, and I'm glad I did so.

By the time I turned the last page, I was not only pleased with the compelling mystery, but also kind of obsessed with the female heroine. In most books that focus on females, the lady in the spotlight is funny with a touch of awkward, charmingly self-deprecating, modestly ambitious, blah blah blah. These are all qualities that any girl could identify with. What made me so attracted to Lisbeth Salander is that she's far from any of those things. In fact, she's rather hard to pin down. Despite (or probably because of) her troubled background, she's unapologetically bad-ass. She skulks around in all black, fucks who she wants to, and keeps her astonishing intelligence to herself.

The tiny part of me that wants to BE Lisbeth grew after watching the movie and falling head-over-heels into girl crush city with Rooney Mara. Mara's performance personified to a T what I expected Lisbeth to be. Never before have I wanted to be tattooed and pierced with inky black hair sticking up in all directions and a bitchy slogan on my tee. The bitchy tee is probably the farthest I'd venture outside my style comfort zone, but Lisbeth/Rooney continues to serve as inspiration. I strongly recommend reading the book and immediately watching the movie. I'm halfway through the second in the series, The Girl who Played with Fire, and haven't yet experienced a Lisbeth Salander overdose. She's too cool to get sick of.

Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M.

From the second I opened Sam Wasson’s highly addictive work of literature, I felt as if I had stumbled onto a film set, or into some exclusive club in which deeply interesting bits of pop culture knowledge are revealed with the aloofness of casual conversation. Not only does Wasson describe in great, entertaining detail the making of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but he gets to the bottom of why its star, Audrey Hepburn, was such an enchanting girl, and why she still is today. The cast of characters within the volume is vast. Everyone from Truman Capote, to Edith Head, to Marilyn Monroe pops up. If they had some influence on Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or Audrey Hepburn’s life, a snippet of their story is told. The text reads like a novel destined to be a classic. I found myself turning pages late into the night and even as my eyes drooped, didn’t want to stop. Wasson’s prose would have the same affect on film buffs, celebrity enthusiasts, and especially fashionistas. My favorite story within the story was the tale of how Audrey became muse to Hubert de Givenchy and how she and his Little Black Dress reinvented fashion. This book seems like such a necessity, I’m surprised there are not more like it. I would recommend this to almost anyone. If you are interested in films, Broadway plays, actresses, Hollywood, costume, history, feminism, fashion, etc. (It is a never-ending list.) you would enjoy this book. Even if you’re not a reader and would rather look at pictures, check the middle for exclusive shots taken before and during the production of the iconic film. It is undeniable that Sam Wasson’s book should be on the shelf of every fashionable lady with a little Audrey in her.