Oh Tilda, Tilda. Now, I recognize that I (and probably a lot of other like-minded folks) still have lingering problems with Tilda’s support of the Free Polanski petition. Disappointed just starts to scratch the surface. Still as much as the art is not the artist, I can’t help but be drawn to Tilda Swinton. She is just so terribly delicious. I’m so viscerally attracted to her, it’s involuntary. That face, that skin, that hair – sweet merciful Zeus, that hair. She defies even the simplest convention in an industry built on the deification of standardized perfection. And, I’m not even kidding, I’d kill to see her play Conan O’Brien in “Night Shift 2: Sometimes Chins Come Back.” (An offer which she replied to with an enthusiastic “Yes, yes, yes, absolutely.”) She is certainly tall and thin enough to play him. Though, I’m convinced that she fills out a suit better.
Male, female. Straight, holding hands with a woman in slack and a tie with her hands in her pockets (we all know what that means, ladies).
Tilda defies definition while blazing her own. But seriously, how do I get that hair?
No comments:
Post a Comment