Dressed to Kill

I never thought having sex with a sports car, owning two pet Cheetahs and knocking off a slew of men that ‘I just couldn’t deal with anymore’ would cure me of a dark depression, but it did. Matter-of-fact, it made me delightfully giddy. It all went down a few weeks ago.

There I was, sitting at my desk, an uninspired fashion blogger staring at a blinking cursor and a blank computer screen. I was seriously contemplating selling myself out for a picture blog. Everyone’s doing it and it would be so much easier. Slap up a few images, write a blurb and call it a day. Maybe then, my well of creativity wouldn’t run dry, or (cue dramatic, ominous music) maybe it would.

I hadn’t written a Shireen’s Favorite Things (fashion blog) in weeks and by blog I mean ‘a well-crafted, hopefully somewhat interesting and entertaining story-slash-experience’ about the constant pursuit of looking fabulous. Which, by the way, usually takes a lot of words, not just photos.

Wait, wait…I take that back. A few weeks ago, I tried writing a piece about The Stylish Stiletto Manicure trend, but for whatever reason, I just couldn’t nail the story. I ended up writing some weird, morose manifesto about finger fashions. Put it this way: after my editor read it, he said: “Your blog makes me wanna smoke a cigarette, drink a Scotch on the rocks and throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge.” Hmmm, not exactly the look I was going for.

My editor and I agreed on a rewrite. He thought I just needed some time and distance away from that particular topic. In other words, he wanted me to go home, sleep on it and reread it, so I could see how bat-shit crazy I sounded the next day. (By the way, he was right.) In the meantime, he chirped: “Find something else that inspires you! ” I rolled my eyes at him and went back to my office. Yeah, easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one wearing a push up bra, fake eyelashes and knuckle rings. It’s hard to find inspiration with all that extra padding, glue and cheap metal weighing you down. What I’m trying to say is…

I had already grown tired of the latest fashion trends. The 80’s? I mean, come on!! What’s a fashionista supposed to do with an off-the-shoulder sweat shirt, narrowed-down parachute pants, studded jewelry and flat waffle boots? Stay at home, that’s what. I wasn’t even hooked on anything Haute Couture. At the moment, I felt high fashion was having an identity crisis. It had morphed its way from the cheesiness of the 80’s to a mishmosh of the 90’s and then BAM! All of a sudden it hightailed its way back to the 20′ s. What’s that about?

I love that whole Great Gatsby look, but personally, I just don’t feel comfortable walking around Miami dressed like a flapper, with a hint of bohemian flare, just because that’s where fashion’s going. For me, the look has too much texture, too much color (for fall) and not enough structure. Albeit, it’s way better than the whole ‘Southwest Style In(Deppth)’ look that blew into summer like a bad sand storm. (*Note – SSID is the blog I wrote about Johnny Depp and the Wild West fashion craze.)

The truth is, I’m a self-admitted glamour puss. I like streamlined skinny jeans and neat trousers. I love beautiful blouses, adore pretty dresses and collect jaw-dropping stilettos (with a built -in platform.) This is where being a movie critic and a fashion blogger gets confusing. If I don’t like a movie, I don’t have to wear it. It is what it is. Next! But, when I don’t like fashion, I still have to find a fit for it (literally and figuratively,) in some way, shape or form. So, I can write, share and give advice about what works and what doesn’t for the everyday Miami fashionista. Which leads me back to my ‘uninspired fashion blogger staring at a blinking cursor and a blank computer screen’ moment.

Just when I thought my fashion fog would never be lifted, I got a phone call that would turn out to be a beacon in the night. It was my Assignment Manager, Odette. She said Deco Drive was sending me to London to cover the premiere of Director Ridley Scott’s new film, ‘The Counselor.’ What’s more, the movie studio (20th Century Fox,) thought I was the perfect fit for the assignment because the flick oozed style.

Naturally, I had my doubts. ‘The Counselor,’ starring Michael Fassbender, is about a wealthy attorney with major money problems. To keep up his lavish lifestyle, he goes rogue and becomes the money man behind a gang-driven, drug trafficking ring. His pristine life gets quickly annihilated by the underbelly of the drug world. Not exactly ‘The Devil Wears Prada,’ but way better than the alternative – which would be writing about why you should own a pair of parachute pants. Yup, the ones MC Hammer made famous back in the late 80’s.

So, off I went. Across the pond and straight to the blue carpet premiere of the movie. It was hard to decide on wardrobe, because I wasn’t really feeling anything, but my stylist (Shari) and I agreed on a chic rocker look that consisted of shiny black, python textured, J Brand skinny jeans. A black semi-fitted, Haute Hippie blouse with sheer cut-out sleeves and a bejeweled neck line. A faux fur, dark purple vest (to keep warm) and to give the ensemble street cred, I sported blinged-out black and gold Tory Burch booties (all from Koko & Palenki.)

At the premiere, I chatted with Ridley, Michael and Oscar winners Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz. Each star insisted that “The Counselor,” was indeed ‘Miami’ sexy. I would find out, when the lights went down in that little London theatre, that SEXY would be a major understatement. I was gobsmacked. Matter of fact, I was close to having a full-on fashion orgasm in front of the entire audience. I had to physically stop myself from oohing and ahhing out loud. The reason…

I was utterly mesmerized by Cameron Diaz’s character, Malkina. Despite the fact that she was a complete crazed, cold blooded murderer. She was also drop-dead gorgeous, provocative and fantastically fashion forward. Malkina may have been ugly on the inside, but man, she was Dressed to Kill on the outside. She oozed everything good about what fashion is ‘right now,’ by way of hair, nails, clothing and make-up.

I loved her bright-blonde-with-dirty-black-roots-razor-edged, bilateral bob (shaved underneath.) Her nails were sublime, too. They were styled in a Stiletto Manicure and painted either brandished gold or silver (depending on what she was wearing,) with the slightest of grommets on each finger. The look was so polished it made the paint job on the bright yellow Ferrari Malkina humped in the movie look bad. Yes, Malkina has sex with a sports car.

The wardrobe, designed by Paula Thomas from London, stood out the most. Although it was sleek and tailored, it was also edgy and unpredictable. Thomas describes the clothing as rock ‘n roll inspired, but personally, I’ve never seen a rock star put together like that. The shoes, mainly booties (because you can’t walk around killing people in open-toed shoes,) were avant-garde with a touch of worn seduction.

Crime pays, at least for Malkina and her statement jewelry. The rings she wore were big, bodacious and unapologetic. Malkina did what every woman should do but doesn’t: gift herself with bling no man would have the balls enough to buy her (except for maybe Kobe Bryant, but Malkina would slit his throat, or have someone else do it, right after he slipped that apology ring on her finger.)

Malkina’s tattoos and make-up were heavy handed. She boldly wore a muted Cheetah tat down one side of her body. Her mysterious gaze was darkened with a smudgy coal, black eyeliner. It gets better. In a stroke of genius, at the bottom of each eye (about mid lash) small, exquisite, black dots were artfully drawn on, giving off the impression of a true cat eye. And why not? In the movie, Malkina owns two pet Cheetahs. If you can’t beat a wild animal, why not join them?

Daringly, Malkina gets away with it all and I don’t just mean the fashion. She leaves the men, the big house, the sports car and the pet Cheetahs behind and well … you have to see the movie for yourself to find out the ending.

I know for me, the best part of “The Counselor” is the fact that my computer cursor isn’t giving me the stank-eye anymore, my blank blog page is now full and my fashion depression has finally lifted. I guess I’m guilty of finding inspiration again. Remember, fashionistas being Dressed to Kill isn’t just about getting it right on Halloween.

“The Counselor” is rated R and is in movie theatres now.

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