The Tamesis
Kang Chow, Alison Oliver, Shazad Latif, Margot Robbie, Emerald Fennell, Jacob ElordiPhotography: David Jon
My day starts on horseback. I mounted my horse under the Hollywood sign, breathed in the fresh air, and seriously tried to imagine myself in Emily Bronte’s gothic universe. In an instant, Griffith Park in Los Angeles turned into the wilderness of Yorkshire, and I was Heathcliff running towards the ruins. When night falls, I will attend the world premiere of the movie Wuthering Heights; The novel has once again been adapted for the big screen.
The film will be released over Valentine’s Day weekend, which is a bit of an anomaly – if Fennell’s last film, saltburnno matter what the foreshadowing is, it is that restraint is really not her thing. Written in the 1840s, Wuthering Heights It has had many cinematic lives: notably the 1939 Laurence Olivier classic, followed by adaptations in 1970, 1992 and 2011. The latest version feels less like a revival and more like a provocation: edgier, darker, and wilder.
I invited my friends and colleagues Fashion Writer Tish Weinstock joins me. (She is also the how to be a goth, Tish arrived at my house wearing a black Fendi gown by Karl Lagerfeld, and I wore a Chanel dress from the same era as my mother’s, with a Christian Lacroix black velvet ribbon hanging from it with a heartbreak charm. It feels right, although maybe a little too pungent.
We arrived at the TCL Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard dressed in black. Warner Bros. shut down the Walk of Fame entirely, rolling out a vast red carpet that felt both lavish and chaotic, with legions of screaming fans clamoring to get closer. Attend the Hollywood premiere in hollywood— a choreography of velvet ropes, animal trainers and hurried gestures of cattle calls — there’s a unique humbling feeling you get when you’re not involved in a movie. Before we even got to the carpet, it was obvious we were getting chopped. The staff pushed us aside with the usual force of unruly livestock and sent us to the “real stars,” and the box office wasn’t much better. humiliating, ridiculous and Very Hollywood. I whispered to Tish that I might leave the event because I hated myself, but we kept walking, letting our vintage gowns sway around us in protest.
