Post by maggiethecat on Aug 23, 2005 16:34:45 GMT -5
Let’s start by admitting right up front that this is Hollywood, it’s television, and it’s -- how do I break the news?! -- not real. But I really do have a bone to pick with the costumer of Blind Justice. In much the same way that many of us have admitted that it took repeated viewings for us to notice the other actors -- other than Ron Eldard, that is -- I think the costumer of this wonderful show spent all her time and attention on Dunbar’s wardrobe. Can’t say I blame the woman, however. Think of all the opportunities for fittings.
This is just my snarky, hand on hip, silly opinion and I’m just having some fun here. I should preface this by saying that I used to write a fashion and social history column for a local chain of newspapers, and so I had to be up on all this stuff. While that may sound glamorous and frilly it was actually dead boring, sitting in front of the computer in a pair of baggy khakis I bought in a thrift shop and a stretched-out turtleneck, making fun of Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfigger. But I digress . . . .
Detectives in the NYPD make roughly 65K (probably a little more if you’re a ten year gold shield man like Dunbar), which is why most of them live in the outer boroughs -- Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx -- and not in fabulous lofts full of leather furniture, good art, and orchid plants, not to mention the Subzero fridge, the stainless steel Viking stove, and the polished granite countertops. (Why are those rattan blinds never even?)
And, since I live just outside Manhattan and all of our television comes out of there, I’ve seen any number of NYPD tecs on the news over the years. They dress like the guys of 60 truck on Rescue Me. They don’t exactly go down to Barney’s and hit the Italian designer section. We’re talking polyester suits, limp shirts, and soup-stained ties. Lennie Briscoe on Law & Order comes close. Or Fisk, who seems to have been left out of the fashion loop, probably because he has to buy all his clothes at the Tall Men shop.
Take Jim’s overcoat.
You can get that yummy khaki-green Burberry single-breasted trench with signature plaid wool lining for around $750, but that's discounted through the Burberry website. I'm thinking a cool grand retail. On a cop’s salary. (Let's all sing it, all together now -- Hooray for Hollywood . . . !) And while we’re on the subject of that overcoat (in which I have to say Our Hero looks darned swell), why does he seem to wear it in every single exterior scene? I’ll bet it’s because only the overcoat has an inside pocket deep enough to accommodate his cane -- try stuffing that thing into a sports jacket and he'd look like he was smuggling a laundry drying rack. As for Karen and what she wears out on the street, why, when the guys are always in full suits and overcoats, does she run around in short little leather jackets that barely cover her hips? Oh, we all know the answer -- eye candy for the male viewers -- but it's still amusing. Sometimes it looks like Jim and Karen are experiencing two different climates.
Back to Jim. Those are $100 ties, and they are really gorgeous. His shirts are not cheap, either, and are always crisp and perfectly laundered. His suits are miles away from off-the-rack: beautifully fitted, in elegant natural fibers like raw silk or summer weight wool or linen-and-silk blend. He looks sharp and pulled together and fashionable in an entirely masculine manner, coordinated and cool and comfortable.
Jimmy just looks damned good all the time: on the job, in a sweater around the apartment, or -- be still my foolish heart -- in his black leather Ted gear.
But he’s the one that’s blind, and his wife is supposed to be a goddess of the Manhattan fashion scene! Maybe Christie spends all her fashion energies picking out hubby’s duds and flicking imaginary dandruff off his shoulders . . . because her wardrobe seems to be made up of either the cheesiest T-shirts and jeans tighter than most teenagers wear, or cocktail dresses that verge on the ridiculous, like that wacky fringed Xena Warrior Princess number she wore to Walter Cooke's racket. (Oddly overt choice when you’re meeting your husband’s co-workers for the first time, which may explain why Tom and Marty were practically drooling down her cleavage. (Boy, I really do need to tackle that “Leap of Faith” recap.))
I thought the Sofa King Cool T-shirt in The Pilot was, well, pretty sofa king cool -- but what was up with that shrunken pink thing with the sequins she wore for the last scene of "Up on the Roof"? The first time I saw the episode and they started out with her back to the camera? The shirt was so close to her skin tone that for one alarming moment I thought Miz Dunbar was eatin’ dinner nekkid.
The only time Christie looked the least bit New York-chic was in "Seoul Man." Once where she dropped the quarter on the floor – the snug black turtleneck, pleated gold silk skirt, and black patent leather sling-backs were dead on the money – and when Jim came in with his gun drawn and she had on a little black Jackie Kennedy dress accented with a sparkly brooch.
Loved the ending of “Four Feet Under” for the haunting shots of Jimmy lifting his sweet tortured face to the rain, and I’m glad Christie came to join him and slipped her hand into his . . . but no fashion editor I ever met would have been caught dead in a baby blue raincoat.
This is just my snarky, hand on hip, silly opinion and I’m just having some fun here. I should preface this by saying that I used to write a fashion and social history column for a local chain of newspapers, and so I had to be up on all this stuff. While that may sound glamorous and frilly it was actually dead boring, sitting in front of the computer in a pair of baggy khakis I bought in a thrift shop and a stretched-out turtleneck, making fun of Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfigger. But I digress . . . .
Detectives in the NYPD make roughly 65K (probably a little more if you’re a ten year gold shield man like Dunbar), which is why most of them live in the outer boroughs -- Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx -- and not in fabulous lofts full of leather furniture, good art, and orchid plants, not to mention the Subzero fridge, the stainless steel Viking stove, and the polished granite countertops. (Why are those rattan blinds never even?)
And, since I live just outside Manhattan and all of our television comes out of there, I’ve seen any number of NYPD tecs on the news over the years. They dress like the guys of 60 truck on Rescue Me. They don’t exactly go down to Barney’s and hit the Italian designer section. We’re talking polyester suits, limp shirts, and soup-stained ties. Lennie Briscoe on Law & Order comes close. Or Fisk, who seems to have been left out of the fashion loop, probably because he has to buy all his clothes at the Tall Men shop.
Take Jim’s overcoat.
You can get that yummy khaki-green Burberry single-breasted trench with signature plaid wool lining for around $750, but that's discounted through the Burberry website. I'm thinking a cool grand retail. On a cop’s salary. (Let's all sing it, all together now -- Hooray for Hollywood . . . !) And while we’re on the subject of that overcoat (in which I have to say Our Hero looks darned swell), why does he seem to wear it in every single exterior scene? I’ll bet it’s because only the overcoat has an inside pocket deep enough to accommodate his cane -- try stuffing that thing into a sports jacket and he'd look like he was smuggling a laundry drying rack. As for Karen and what she wears out on the street, why, when the guys are always in full suits and overcoats, does she run around in short little leather jackets that barely cover her hips? Oh, we all know the answer -- eye candy for the male viewers -- but it's still amusing. Sometimes it looks like Jim and Karen are experiencing two different climates.
Back to Jim. Those are $100 ties, and they are really gorgeous. His shirts are not cheap, either, and are always crisp and perfectly laundered. His suits are miles away from off-the-rack: beautifully fitted, in elegant natural fibers like raw silk or summer weight wool or linen-and-silk blend. He looks sharp and pulled together and fashionable in an entirely masculine manner, coordinated and cool and comfortable.
Jimmy just looks damned good all the time: on the job, in a sweater around the apartment, or -- be still my foolish heart -- in his black leather Ted gear.
But he’s the one that’s blind, and his wife is supposed to be a goddess of the Manhattan fashion scene! Maybe Christie spends all her fashion energies picking out hubby’s duds and flicking imaginary dandruff off his shoulders . . . because her wardrobe seems to be made up of either the cheesiest T-shirts and jeans tighter than most teenagers wear, or cocktail dresses that verge on the ridiculous, like that wacky fringed Xena Warrior Princess number she wore to Walter Cooke's racket. (Oddly overt choice when you’re meeting your husband’s co-workers for the first time, which may explain why Tom and Marty were practically drooling down her cleavage. (Boy, I really do need to tackle that “Leap of Faith” recap.))
I thought the Sofa King Cool T-shirt in The Pilot was, well, pretty sofa king cool -- but what was up with that shrunken pink thing with the sequins she wore for the last scene of "Up on the Roof"? The first time I saw the episode and they started out with her back to the camera? The shirt was so close to her skin tone that for one alarming moment I thought Miz Dunbar was eatin’ dinner nekkid.
The only time Christie looked the least bit New York-chic was in "Seoul Man." Once where she dropped the quarter on the floor – the snug black turtleneck, pleated gold silk skirt, and black patent leather sling-backs were dead on the money – and when Jim came in with his gun drawn and she had on a little black Jackie Kennedy dress accented with a sparkly brooch.
Loved the ending of “Four Feet Under” for the haunting shots of Jimmy lifting his sweet tortured face to the rain, and I’m glad Christie came to join him and slipped her hand into his . . . but no fashion editor I ever met would have been caught dead in a baby blue raincoat.
