beatnik style

One of my favorite fashion cultures of all time is the 50s / early 60s ‘beatnik‘ era.

Here is an exerpt from wikipedia explaining the Beatnik stereotype:

“Beat Generation” sold books, sold black turtleneck sweaters and bongos, berets and dark glasses, sold a way of life that seemed like dangerous fun—thus to be either condemned or imitated. Suburban couples could have beatnik parties on Saturday nights and drink too much and fondle each other’s wives.

Striped shirts, over sized sweaters, cowl neck tops, skinny jeans, clam diggers, pencil skirts, stirrup slacks, thick/dark glasses, berets, loafers and lots and lots of black were beatnik fashion staples. What’s not to love about that? There was so much more to the beatnik culture than just fashion. It was a literary movement. Poetry slams and espresso and photography and cigarettes and eastern religious views were all big parts of the beatnik lifestyle.

Here are some fashion icons that rocked the beatnik look and/or lifestyle.

Anthony Quinn & Anna Karina

Audrey Hepburn

James Dean

Marilyn Monroe

Allen Ginsberg

Twiggy

Peter Sellers

Edie Sedqwick

Andy Warhol

The Who

Patti Smith

Bob Dylan

I dig the beatnik style. You dig?

XO

tmv

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Every vintage blogger has got to do a post on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s“. It’s an absolute classic and Audrey Hepburn is to die for in this movie as the socialite Holly Golightly.

xo

 “He’s all right! Aren’t you, cat? Poor cat! Poor slob! Poor slob without a name! The way I see it I haven’t got the right to give him one. We don’t belong to each other. We just took up one day by the river. I don’t want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I’m not sure where that is but I know what it is like. It’s like Tiffany’s.”

 “Tiffany’s? You mean the jewelry store.”
“That’s right. I’m just CRAZY about Tiffany’s!”

“I’m like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other.”

“The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?”

‘Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany’s. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then – then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name!”

“Promise me one thing: don’t take me home until I’m drunk – very drunk indeed.”

“I’ll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead.”

“It’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.”

 “He’s all right, I suppose, if you like dark, handsome, rich-looking men with passionate natures and too many teeth.”

“Did I tell you how divinely and utterly happy I am?”

“Do you think she’s talented, deeply and importantly talented?”
“No. Amusingly and superficially talented, yes. But deeply and importantly, no.”

“A girl can’t read that sort of thing without her lipstick.”

“It’s useful being top banana in the shock department.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, Fred, darling… I’d marry you for your money in a minute. Would you marry me for my money?”
“In a minute.”
“I guess it’s pretty lucky neither of us is rich, huh?”
“Yeah.”

“Moon River, wider than a mile,
I’m crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you’re going I’m going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There’s such a lot of world to see.
We’re after the same rainbow’s end–
waiting ’round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.”

“I love you. ”
“So what.”
“So what? So plenty! I love you, you belong to me!”
“No. People don’t belong to people.”
“Of course they do!”
“I’ll never let ANYBODY put me in a cage.”
“I don’t want to put you in a cage, I want to love you!”

“You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

Beautiful woman, beautiful film.

x o x

TMV