Last weekend, I found a perfect-fitting YSL Encore velvet blazer for $8 at the Goodwill. According to my crack research team (le Google), YSL Encore is a diffusion line the company initiated in 1993. That was the period I thought the jacket probably dated from (tho I was thinking possibly even 89-90). It’s got sharp shoulders and thin-cut sleeves. The latter is a nice feature; when I buy jackets new, I always resolve to have the sleeves altered and then never get around to it.
It’s odd to think of the clothes of one’s youth as being vintage, but that’s what this jacket is, no question. At less than 20 years old, it’s in great shape: all the original buttons are in place, and the velvet hasn’t been smoked in or crushed. That’s a tall order for vintage with a thrift store provenance. The only thing I could wish for would be a couple of spare buttons. Details, details.
Speaking of which: we saw A Single Man, an ode to the details of its 1962 setting (with the exception of telephones, apparently…jeebus, anachronism-spotters of IMDB). Of course it would be, with such a director. (Tom Ford, incidentally, does not look back fondly on his time at YSL in a recent-ish interview in the Advocate.)
I took particular note of Julianne Moore’s boozily-applied eye makeup (love that vanity table): one expects a ton of winged liner, but the thin black line in the crease is the kicker. This is the stuff of boredom-fueled, around-the-house makeup experiments and Halloween in my book. And that’s not a bad thing.
A final note on A Single Man: Nicholas Hoult! I did not recognize him. He is wondrously changed. And a final final note: Matthew Goode. He seems to be everywhere I look these days, even places I do not want to look (See: Leap Year. Also, retrospectively: Watchmen).