I know I’ve been MIA. And chances are I will continue to be for awhile, but I’m alright.
But back to Hitch. There’s something about this time of year that is just so very Hitch to me. It’s not terribly elusive as to why. November has a hint of suspense. It’s dark, it’s chilly. Clothing is in the tweed variety. It’s nice to see Jimmy Stewart before you watch It’s A Wonderful Life. Netflix, an organization I feel provides a service akin to charity, has slowly been increasing it’s Hitchcock watch instantly selections to the point that of the 51 titles (including tv) they provide(someday….someday Rebecca will be readily available on DVD. Someday…) 27 (that’s 53%) are available to watch instantly. I’ve seen 11 of his films, and a lot of television episodes (but they were all on Nick at Nite). According to Netflix, I’ve also seen Strangers on a Train, but god help me…I don’t remember.
So what to watch now? I’ve seen the last (Family Plot), but with a filmmaker like Hitchcock, the first is harder to discern. Sure there’s an old silent he directed, and that’s as good as I’ll be able to do. But I’m sure that wasn’t the first film Hitchcock ever produced.
I think it’s between Foreign Correspondent, The 39 Steps and Torn Curtain. And something Cary Grant. Even though I’ve seen all the Cary Grant ones.
I’m no Hitchcock zealot. I actually didn’t like The Birds. (Although I’m beggining to suspect what I don’t like, in truth, is Daphne Du Maurier. Which is too bad because it’s so fun to say. It’s like white gloves for your vocal apparatus. Daphne du Maurier wore Diorissimo, I bet.)
But then again, maybe I should watch Topaz; it’s November’s birthstone.
A friend of mine was a bit incredulous at my disdain for suits. “I love suits!” he declared. “Well, you don’t have my tits,” I told him.
I look incomprehensibly frumpy in suits. And I refuse to look like someone’s dowager aunt while interviewing. I wear “suit-like” things, respectable, of course. But no jacket here. Perhaps it’s because I’ve played a man too many times, but as Dita says of sweatpants, “They chafe me, if not physically, emotionally.”
Actually, I was feeling really depressed when I started writing this post. But the thought of a pencil skirt and wiggle dress shopping spree might just pull me out of it.
That settles it. The leopard heels are coming to that callback tonight.