Heart to Heart with Lou Doillon

 

A couple of months ago I interviewed the very lovely Lou Doillon (aka we met at a café and talked for two hours, mostly of our love of Leonard Cohen). The interview is featured in this summer's issue of Wonderland Magazine. I thought you might like to read it...

Sipping a café crème in her camel hair coat, maroon fedora and unruly bangs, Lou Doillon looks like the epitome of contemporary French chic. But as soon as she starts talking - in perfect English, “bien sûr” - it becomes clear that the singer is hardly the typical Gallic girl. “I feel very English whenever I’m in France, and vice-versa. At home in Paris I constantly bake pies and we only eat British food; I think that comes as a bit of a shock to my mother, who took up French nationality in the sixties and knows the Marseillaise by heart.”

The 30 year-old daughter of Jane Birkin and filmmaker Jacques Doillon was born in Paris, yet grew up listening almost exclusively to American music: “I used to sit at the back of the car on trips and listen to the tapes my father played. That’s how I discovered Nina Simone, Patti Smith and, of course, Bob Dylan. I remember the day I first heard him, I was amazed at the wittiness of his lyrics.” All of these artists have unconsciously influenced the eleven melancholy ballads that compose Places - Doillon’s first album. However, the singer/ actress/ model had only one inspiration in mind while writing her songs. “Unlike Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen had a real influence on my album. Dylan might be the best songwriter, but he is never kind. Cohen on the other hand is, as the French would say, 'bienveillant'. His lyrics are rather raw, but there is never any viciousness or reproach in them. As I was writing, I tried to remain as graceful as him… Although my songs speak about heartbreak, I ended up taking all the anger away from them, and thanking past lovers for the pain and the lessons they taught me.” 

A rather unusual point of view, considering today’s musical landscape. But then again, Doillon's upbringing and family are hardly conventional. Her parents separated when she was nine years old, and she spent most of the time with her mother. Doillon's close family also included Serge Gainsbourg and Charlotte, Jane Birkin's daughter by the legendary French singer. “My family had different and sometimes difficult relationships, but they had a rare kind of honesty about them. I had my father of course, but Serge was also very present in my life; none of them were ever scared of using their relationships to make their art. They didn’t believe in a simplistic interpretation of love where if you are in a couple you are happy and if you are loveless you are sad. Things are so much more complicated than that and feelings shift constantly.I think the French are able to understand and accept that better than other people.” Has that shaped her music? “A sense of vulnerability in love did, yes.” 

Uncertainty, frustration and longing fill her lyrics, which are perfectly complemented in the blue notes of an accompanying piano and the hints of a western guitar. Her low-pitched voice, far removed from Jane Birkin’s fragile soprano tones, vibrates with despair. “I’m not a 20 year-old girl anymore. I’ve screamed, cried, laughed, smoked and drank a lot in my life. I guess my voice reveals those extremes. Etienne Daho, my producer, once told me it reminded him of Karen Dalton, the American folk singer. I have been listening to her a lot since.” 

Daho - one of France’s most respected singers and music producers, who has worked with the likes of Françoise Hardy, Air and Vanessa Paradis - was the first person to hear Doillon’s songs. Under his wing, Places received critical acclaim upon its release. It was also an unexpected commercial success, selling more than 200.000 copies. But the singer remains somewhat puzzled: “I’m a newcomer. So far I’ve only sang 10 gigs, and when I listen to the album I still can’t believe those are my songs. Maybe that’s because I work very fast. The writing process takes over me when I’m in a dark place. I never really look for writing because as soon as I do I can be sure nothing will come out.” 

Music is simply the latest of Doillon's creative outlets (she's also worked as an artist, designer, model and actress), but it's definitely her favourite. “It allows me not only to reveal myself in all my vulnerability and brokenness, but also to understand myself better. Songwriting is a very unconscious process, sometimes I don’t know where what I’m writing is coming from. Etienne says it takes three or four years to understand your own songs; it is probably true. We’ll see!” However, her plans still involve all kinds of different projects. “The need of expression is so powerful... Why explore it in just one way? I think more than caring about getting really perfect at one thing we should aim at being curious and exceptional and simply enjoy ourselves. After all... we only live once.” 

Unconventional Style Icons: Glenn Gould

 

About two years ago I wrote a post titled "Unknown Style Icons: Natacha Rambova", about the eccentric 1920's costume designer and wife of Rudolph Valentino. I really intended to do a whole series of posts on some of my personal style icons who are generally not identified as so by the mainstream media. However, a random reader wrote me an appalled e-mail telling me sarcastically that "he was very glad I had at long last discovered Rambova but that she was by no means unknown and I should research more before talking without having a clue". That made me feel like such a loser I stopped altogether the unknown style icons series. But, hang it, after two years I've finally gotten over it (sensitive, me?) and decided to start it again, only this time I'll call it "Unconventional Style Icons" so as to not attract more hate mail calling me an ignorant idiot. 

Anyway, after Natacha Rambova I give you Glenn Gould.

Admittedly, Mr. Gould's style is the least important thing about him. You are looking at one of the biggest musical geniuses of last century. I know the word "genius" is thrown around way too frivolously these days, but in this case it applies. Glenn, who was born in Toronto in 1932, could read music before he could read words. As a baby he would play with the family piano, not by randomly hitting the keys but rather by pressing one key at a time and carefully listening to each sound and its evolution. By the time he was 13 he gave his first concert and at 25 he embarked on a tour of the Soviet Union. He had his very own views on music and believed a performer should be - rather than just a machine playing someone else's compositions - a true interpreter, bringing a new sound to an already known score. Also, besides a genius, he was a hopeless eccentric. 

Before he sat down to play the piano (on his very low wooden chair, a present from his father which he carried to all his performances), Glenn had to make sure the temperature in the room was extremely warm (he was constantly cold).While playing, he invariably hummed to the music, which gave sound technicians many a headache during recording sessions. He disliked being touched; in fact, he didn't much enjoy human company in general and felt better around animals.All these quirks obviously shaped his "nutty genius" style, which to be honest attains levels of cool otherwise only reached by the Japanese.

I must also mention Mr. Gould had the good looks of a young Ethan Hawke, which also helped (why hasn't anyone made a movie about his life starring Ethan yet by the way?)

I guess he didn't give much importance to the way he looked, and that's exactly what made Glenn so irresistibly cool: his hair was seldom combed and always too long, his suits were mismatched, his trousers were too wide, his shirt rarely tucked in and more often than not unpressed.

Because he always felt cold, he used to wear heavy woolen fabrics, big coats, thick sweaters, scarves, knitted mittens and leather gloves (sometimes one on top of the other. Has Junya Watanabe drawn inspiration from the photo above yet?). All these details added up to create a unique style which in my opinion is truly unique and inspirational.What do you think?

Having steadily studied classical music from the age of 2 to 18, I was familiar with Glenn Gould before I was familiar with Michael Jackson. I know both his music and his persona are not everyone's cup of tea and some people think he is just "too much"; but I'm a fan. Besides admiring his brilliantly creative intrpretations, I've always been partial to him partly tanks to his ambivalent feelings towards people and the fact that he had even more aversion to cold than I do. Over the years he has become one of my icons, and I'm not just talking about style. Even though he had tons of it.

PS: If you would like to know more about this genius, here is a really interesting documentary featuring lots of original footage of Glenn and his inimitable "allure".

Punk: from Chaos to Conformism

On monday I got depressed upon witnessing that travesty of a punk celebration that was the Met Ball. Seeing that gang of self-important celebrities parading around in six-figure outfits and smiling through their flawlessly whitened teeth made me feel, as Leonard Cohen would put it, like the war was over and the good guy lost. Welcome to 2013, where doublethink is as current as in Orwell's 1984 and we honor punk by placing a bunch of clothes in an official building and then letting one of the most powerful women in the world host an expensive party and invite a bunch of mainstream idols for a lovely politically correct black tie ball. The irony is endless.

I've heard all kinds of anecdotes about that evening. From Madonna stating that punk is not caring what anybody thinks while sporting a Givenchy look that surely took several weeks to put together, to Vivienne Westwood being cut off in an interview because the journalist wanted to speak to Hilary Rhoda instead, to Kate Upton saying in a Zoolanderish tone "I don't think I fully understood the theme". It all seemed like a colossal joke. Kristen McMenamy was one of the few guests who got it right, laughing "this is the antithesis of punk. Punk is not putting it on. Punk is angry. Punk is not pretending. Punk is real. This is like a costume party for punk". After which she proceeded to spit on the red carpet - subsequently becoming an absolute goddess to my eyes. 

Fashion advice for red-carpeters from Siouxsie Sioux and her friends.

And what about the exhibition itself? "I had a little look and I liked some of my stuff..." said Dame Viv, "and we'll leave it there". Curated by Andrew Bolton with the help of photographer Nick Knight and filmmaker Ruth Hogben, it had everything to be fantastic; but in a 21st century where political correctness, advertisers and antibacterial gels rule the world, it turned into a toned-down, antiseptic version of punk. Apparently all references to drugs (except for the Ramones song Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue) and swastikas were wiped out. And that's where the fashion industry - generally so obsessed with aesthetic perfection - fails to understand that punk is not about being fabulous; on the contrary, it's about filth and trouble and ugliness. And that's the beauty of it (and no reconstruction of Seditionaries or CBGB's bathroom can entirely make up for it, although those were definitely cool ideas).

The Swastika was decontextualized and widely used by punks for obvious shock value but also as a reflection on the boundaries of freedom of expression. And for the zillionth time, this doesn't mean punks were nazis.

Dame Viv & friends showing their stuff. I hoped something like this would happen at the Met Ball. How could I be so deluded.

Punk was all about trouble, see? Here's Malcolm McLaren (my least favourite punk- read John Lydon's autobiography to know why) all thrilled at being arrested after the Jubilee boat trip incident.

Sid Vicious injecting himself with heroin in 1978. Punk is sometimes also about drugs. Why act like it never happened?

This is punk too, but I guess Anna Wintour and her sponsors wouldn't approve.

Sid said it: "I'm not chic. I could never be chic". And that's the problem with this whole Punk: From Chaos to Couture thing. It aims to be a high fashion exhibition, therefore a chic affair, yet when Vivienne Westwood established Sex in King's Road with Malcolm McLaren she was hardly considered a high-end designer.Of course I understand the importance of punk in the history of fashion and its enduring influence (and actually studied it quite a bit at Central Saint Martins with the amazing Peter Towse, who witnessed the punk years firsthand), but I think studded Burberry trench coats or Versace dresses decorated with gold safety pins are purely anecdotic. Also, as someone very cleverly pointed out to me, original punk clothes were meant to be worn. The rest of the clothes in the exhibition (all the numbers by Galliano or Margiela or Slimane) were conceived for the catwalk and for editorial purposes. They were not lived in. And what is fascinating about punk (at least for me) is that it's all about stories, about how people lived and about the spontaneous narrative of their styles.

 

 

Joey Ramone and Debbie Harry, king and queen of cool. 

Dee Dee Ramone being cute. Also, check out Joey in the background being a total style god.

I definitely understand how challenging it must have been for Andrew Bolton to conceive and put together the exhibit from a 100% fashion point of view. Maybe it should have been about more than just fashion (but would it have its place in the Met then?). It is doubtessly a privilege to be able to see original Vivienne Westwood and Katharine Hamnett T-shirts (some of them had not been seen in years), but from what I've seen the exhibition feels kind of lifeless.And punk was all about energy! Someone (I don't remember who) was defending the retrospective on Twitter stating in an outraged way that "of course it is about the clothes! What other outlet did the punks have to express themselves? Just music". "Just music"? For a start, I don't think music was secondary to style for most punks. And I do think they had other outlets: they spat, they provoked, they hung out together. Okay, they did not focus on creating beautiful sculptures or brainy avant-garde films. And why? Because punk was not about those things! If it is called "punk" it's because it's all about being a punk. 

CBGB's was an art form in itself.

DOA had the right attitude.

One of the anecdotes that depressed me most about the Met Ball was the one about the punkish-looking boys and girls who were "hired" to stand on the stairs and give the grandiose Met a bit of a subversive feeling to counteract all the (hideous) satin ball gowns. Anna Wintour told one of the boys "you look very handsome", to which he politely responded "uh... thank you. You look beautiful too". I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person in the planet (designers of the world, I'm looking at you) who would have loved to see a real punk adress Ms Wintour in a typically punk manner. But as the great Grace Coddington said, "I don't think real punks have been invited". 

This is what I mean by punk behaviour. You have to adore Johnny Rotten being all impretinent yet repentant like a school kid when he says the word "shit".

So was the whole thing a complete failure? Actually I don't think so. It was openly commercial and shamelessly anti-punk, and it has gotten me and countless others exceedingly upset upon noticing how full of utter crap our society is. But it also got many people thinking about the true essence of punk, and discussing it - in a very 21st century way - through social networks. As a matter of fact, ever since monday night all I see on my Facebook and Twitter feeds are really interesting discussions about the importance of the punk movement, what it stood for and why we have to still be punks at heart. You gotta hand it to the Met Ball's glamourous clique: by making us violently react to them, they have brought true punk back in fashion. 

Dalí: Cosmogonic Genius

I'm now writing for AnOther ... and I couldn't be happier about it, since it's one of my favourite magazines ever! So far I have published 2 articles in the past week (both about Spanish artists) and I can't help but sharing my latest one about Salvador Dalí. I know many people have trouble dealing with his work and his flamboyant personality, but I must confess I just adore him: he was deliriously creative, intelligent, articulate, hysterically funny, the king of overstatement... and he was hot when he was young. What more could one ask for in a man? In short: yes, he was a genius.

 "Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure – that of being Salvador Dalí". The man who once defined himself as a “cosmogonic genius” was second to none when it came to controversy. Seen by most of his contemporaries as an eccentric at best and a shameless buffoon at worst, he was judged by an art industry that despised in him the very same things it praised in Andy Warhol: megalomania, a taste for provoking and an audacity that knew no bounds. Dalí was in fact a pioneer exploring performance art ahead of his time, and his manipulation of the media has taken a whole new meaning in this Internet-driven century: the timing couldn't be more perfect for the retrospective that is currently held at the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris, which places the Spanish artist yet again right in the eye of the storm.

Salvador Dalí was anything but ordinary. From his childhood he had a rare conscience of his own greatness: "at the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since". His early years in the Catalan coast of Empordà would arise in him an array of Iberian eccentricities that went from food obsession to mystic outbursts and caught the interest of the group of surrealist artists led by André Breton. However, the young Dalí proved too outrageous even for them and was eventually expelled from the group after presenting his scatological painting The Lugubrious Game. From then on, stating "I am surrealism", he pushed the boundaries of art to delirious extremes like a near-death experience inside a diving suit during a performance. He never hid his appetite for fame and fortune, going as far as to invent his own anagram nickname, "Avida Dollars". From the 1940s he engaged in all kinds of creative projects: designing dresses with Elsa Schiaparelli, imagining movie sets with the also genial Alfred Hitchcock or even conceiving the logo of Chupa Chups sweets, still finding time to appear in numerous TV shows and, of course, to paint with a skill comparable to those of Velázquez or Vermeer.

The exhibition at the Pompidou Centre looks back on the painter’s life through more than 200 works of art comprising The Great Masturbator, The Persistence of Memory and other iconic paintings as well as readymade objects like his 1936 Lobster Telephone, films, jewellery or pieces of furniture mimicking Mae West’s features. Visitors will enter the exhibit through a giant egg symbolizing birth, and will exit through a brain, having experienced the hallucinogenic cosmos of this modern Renaissance Man.

Dalí is at the Centre Pompidou until March 25, 2013

Trick or Treat! The 10 best ever Halloween Movies

Because Halloween wouldn't be Halloween without a touch of silver screen, because movies are as important to October 31 as candy, and just in case you're tired of watching Saw and The Exorcist over and over again and are in need of a little film inspiration, I have put together a list of some of my favourite Halloween titles. 

Not all of the movies I have chosen are scary. I do like to be scared as much as anyone else (although if I have to sleep alone afterwards I might spend the night hidden under the duvet terrified that Jack the Ripper/ Norman Bates/ Linda Blair/ the Monster Under The Bed is coming to get me) but I think there's more to Halloween than just the scary part: it's about celebrating the obscure, the mysterious, the supernatural. It's about black magic and embracing our dark side. Each in its own way, all these movies convey that. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the wickedest celebration of the year!

10. Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Classic horror at its best! Monsters! Crazy scientists! Electricity machines! Boris Karloff! And of course the unforgettable Elsa Lanchester dressed as the terrifying bride of Frankenstein... But the reason I love this movie is because of the way James Whale directed it: it's simple, tender and compassionate without being sentimental, and it has flashes of humour and a couple of welcome touches of Hollywood kitsch (that gothic castle in the Scottish moors of Culver City, Ca?). In a way it set the standards for later horror movies, but it is also quite unique in the way it approaches the relationship between monsters and humans. A true must-see. 

9. The Omen (1976)

Okay, this movie is kind of average really. But it features a mature Gregory Peck, and that's good enough for me. The story is pretty standard as well: loving couple has a son who turns out to be an evil child and the Devil's messenger or something, and kills everything and everyone in gruesome ways. On its strong points, the ending is not as deceiving as it usually is in this kind of movies, and it's fun for a rainy afternoon in. Oh, and, you know. Gregory Peck. 

8. The Day The Earth Stood Still (1958)

Nothing beats a good alien movie with retro-designed flying saucers and that howling music they make. The thing that sets apart The Day The Earth Stood Still is the fact that aliens are the good ones in this film, coming to Earth to try and explain to humans that all violence must cease and that Cold War and The Bomb are bound to destroy the Universe. But... will humans listen to their message?

7.Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)

For me, this is the number one Halloween comedy. A film in which two old witches bake cakes, kill lonely men and store all the corpses about their house; a film in which a scar-covered Raymond Massey psychologically tortures an Igor-looking Peter Lorre; a film about madness, death and poison... which turns out to be a rom com. Only Frank Capra (and Cary Grant at his best).

6. Carrie (1976)

A bit of genuine fear is always good in Halloween, so what better than Carrie? This movie is unsettling (what's with all the nudity at the beginning?) and terrifying, especially if you're watching it for the first time. Me and eight of my girl cousins watched it together years ago and I can still remember the moment in which we all yelled in utter horror. I think we scared the neighbours, and just that made it worthwile. Also, Sissy Spacek's eyes when all that blood is running through her face... always gives me the willies.

5. The Village of the Damned (1960)

A group of blond children (supposedly the kids of aliens although I secretly suspect they're just nazis) read into the minds of adults and control their actions, causing them to self-harm. This iconic movie is actually quite well built and it's got George Sanders in it for once not playing the villain. Also, who can resist evil aryan kids talking with a British accent?

4. The Blob (1958)

Pure B-series drive-in material! Who could turn it down? For once, it's not about monsters, Frankensteins, aliens, Godzillas or creatures of the Black Lagoon attacking people; here it's all about a sort of giant jelly which looks like it might be cherry-flavored although I think it's actually the blood which gives it its distinctive red color. It eats teenage boys and their full-skirted, buxom girlfriends in their cars and in high-schools and in ice-cream parlors. Luckily there is Steve McQueen to save us all.

3. King Kong (1933)

For those of you craving a monster classic, here's King Kong, the movie that has everything: the Empire State building, stop-motion dinosaurs, a screaming Fay Wray and a deliciously 1930's story. It never ceases to amaze me how it stays fresh, entertaining and surprising after almost a century. If you haven't watched it yet, you should definitely put it in your Halloween to-do list. 

2. Ed Wood (1994)

Before he married Helena Bonham-Carter and started making stupid films about monkeys and chocolate factories, Tim Burton was a great director. No, seriously, this is one of my all-time favourites and I guess it could be defined as a meta-Halloween movie: it's more than a Halloween movie, it's a movie about all Halloween movies. Johnny Depp is Ed Wood, a director so bad he was genius (you should also watch some of his work, it's a lark). He's friends with a decadent Bela Lugosi and has a girlfriend played by Sarah Jessica Parker (who's just as unbearable as good old Carrie B). Burton tells his story with understanding and tenderness towards Ed, his freak friends and their failures. Fabulous in every sense.

1. Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

Meet Gary Oldman, aka the hottest Count Dracula that's ever been. I have always been a fan of the original 1931 version of Dracula, but you just gotta love Coppola's version as well (and hey, any movie starring Winona has to be cool, no?): all the symbolist inspiration and  the winks to Cocteau and to the Bela Lugosi movies just make it great. The costumes, sets and special effects (no weird computer things which would have spoiled the whole mood) are all fantastic; Anthony Hopkins is extra as Van Helsing... all this combined with the fact that Keanu Reeves is at his most boring (are there really times when he's more boring than others?) and that Gary Oldman as Dracula is basically sex on legs, will make you want to turn into a vampire asap.

The Demoiselles de Rochefort will save the day

Summer holidays are almost here and, as usual, I'm starting to get entirely obsessed with them. All I can think of lately is the sea, surfboards and summer fun. So I thought I'd energize this monday morning not with rock, but with a scene from one of my favourite French movies, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort. It's a rare gem featuring Catherine Deneuve, Françoise Dorléac, West Side Story's George Chakiris and none other than Mister Gene Kelly and set in a little French fishing town. It has great songs, it's fun, uplifting, has cute costumes and a cheeky sense of humour. What else can you ask from a movie, right? So if you have never seen it, I suggest you make some lame excuse to sneak out of your office right now and get to watch is asap. It will brighten your day (and your week), guaranteed!

I want Tom Waits to narrate my life story

 Here's something to start your weekend the swell way: a brief history of Californian conceptual artist John Baldessari, narrated by my absolute idol Tom Waits. I mean man, listen to his voice. It carries just as much art as Baldessari's work. Have a fab weekend, whatever you do! (I'm mainly going to be sleeping).

Hair

Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon is my summer's idol (without all the "why did you have a baby" "I don't know" shenanigans).

Taking the Red Carpet

You all know I never talk about celebs, brands, princess dresses or red carpets, but last evening my Twitter timeline was on fire about the Golden Globes, or, more accurately, about the Golden Globes' red carpet. It made me feel left out and isolated from society and general interest topics. So I've decided to exceptionally break my self-imposed silence on red carpet matters with an accelerated course, which I'm sure will be extremely useful to all my readers, on how to shine brighter than any other shooting star on the red carpet. It's really easier than it seems: just follow these simple steps and you'll find yourself the new it girl/it boy/new thing faster than you ever dreamed.
First of all, you need to know that the science of the Red Carpet nowadays is a bit like Derek Zoolander's famous trademark looks. There are three different options (in Derek's case those were Blue Steel, Ferrari and Le Tigre). On the Red Carpet we can call them something like Superstar Frontal, Sexy Back and Le Coy (I confess the names would need a little more work, yes). As for the fourth option, like Zoolander's mysterious Magnum, it's still work in process. So let's get down on it: grab a ruffled, bejewelled, laced, milefeuilled dress and start practicing!

1. Superstar Frontal

Focus: hips and bosom.
Difficulty: level 2
Impact level: fairly high
What this posture says about you: you're rich, successful and famous, aka a total winner, and you know it.

Just place all your weight on your left hip, slighty stepping up your right foot, while you grab your right hip with your right hand. Watch out not to lose your balance.Tip: never forget to hold your breath a bit so that your bosom will be mis en valeur as it rightly deserves. Like this:

Find it boring? Try this variation:

I recommend you practice these moves in front of the mirror 50 to 70 times before you try them in public. And don't forget facial expression: you should never appear serious, which might give paparazzis the false idea that your life is not completely perfect. Your mouth, however, should not be fashioned as a full on smile (except if you are Cameron Diaz, bless her) but as more of a haughty, ever-so-slightly disdainful smirk (after all you need to let know all those plebeians admiringly looking at you in Closer Magazine that you are not enjoying fame, but barely tolerating it).
I can only explain so much; but if you want lessons from a true master, by all means turn to Victoria Beckham: she absolutely dominates the Red Carpet!

You know you have succeeded in mastering this pose when all of your pictures could be put together and make you look like a cut-out doll who just wears interchangeable dresses.

2. Sexy Back

Focus: Tucchus and neck
Difficulty: Level 3
Impact level: super high. Very popular among straight male paparazzis (and non-paparazzis).
What this posture says about you: You're hot.

Put all your weight in one of your hips (you can be creative here and chose whichever one of your two hips you prefer!) and bend your lower back as far out as you can to make your tush appear rounder, bigger, juicier. Next on, lower your shoulders and elongate your neckline all you can. Then look back seductively over your shoulder and for God's sake try not to get a stiff neck or any other injury.

This time our uncanny cardboard doll, ahem, best teacher is my compatriot Elsa Pataky! Check out that yummy behind.

Another tip: when practicing any one of this varieties, it's very important that you make sure to look as much like a Barbie as possible. It will give you star points. Because, after all, Barbie is a star, isn't she?

3. Le Coy

Focus: eyes and pout
Difficulty: level 1
Impact level: ambivalent. Usually low among the male genre but ultra popular with girls.

What this posture says about you: you're purer than the Virgin Mary, more innocent than Saint Bernadette de Lourdes and more perfect than perfection itself.

This option is a bit different than the rest, suitable only for very young, very girly starlettes. I strongly recommend short skirts and dresses (after all your legs don't look like pencils for nothing) with a subtle childlike touch. Also this time, whatever you do, do not put all of your weight on just one of your hips. Balance it between the two instead. Try to keep as upright as possible, your curves should not show. The posture will never be composed of vulgarly feminine bodily attributes like breasts or bottoms, but will be full of delicacy instead. The options are endless: coily play with your bag or clutch, cross your legs way too much in a movement of very controlled clumsiness or twist your feet towards the inside. You can also display your skirt like a 6 year-old child. If you're cute and pure and virginal enough, you can get away with that.

As for facial expression: lower your chin ever so delicately, take a deep breath and pout with all your might. Then open your eyes as much as you can and look up. Be enigmatic, be melancholy, be even a bit apologetic. After all, you only came to fame by chance, but you are so much more distinguished than your average hip-holding star... Find this difficult? Maybe one of these three mantras will help you:
1."why have they brought me here to photograph me?"
2. "Puppy eyes. Puppy eyes. Puppy eyes".
3. "If I can stand being photographed for 5 more minutes Karl will invite me to his villa in Cannes".

See? And just like that, you're ready to take the Red Carpets of the world up by a storm! Oh, just some last minute tips never to be forgotten:
spontaneous smiles? Never! They could make people think that you're actually having fun and enjoying your fame and what's more common than openly enjoying one's own stardom?
Personality? What for? You don't need it! You've got every established brand offering you its most expensive clothes to display!
Daring to be different? Sure fire path towards social suicide.

And finally, whatever you do, never learn anything from any of the people above! After all, why should you learn anything? You're already a celebrity! And being a celebrity is all that counts in the Western World...