The Usual Grump

…about clothing, and the appropriate wearing thereof.  First, the plaudits.

I have always had an old-man crush on Anya Taylor-Joy, the chick from that chess movie, and her latest appearance did nothing to end that for me:

 

Best legs I’ve seen in quite a while, so why shouldn’t she show them off?

Her boyfriend, despite looking a little like a taller Frodo Baggins, was at least appropriately attired:

The same stylish and appropriate attire did not extend to some of the rest of the male(?) attendees.  The Skarsgård boy (Anya’s co-star in the movie) wore a tee shirt:

…while the editor of British Vogue  looked like a morning Tube commuter:

…and the whole thing went rapidly downhill from there:

 

This post has been brewing for a while, because a couple weeks ago at some other movie premiere / red carpet thing, we were treated to this horrifying nonsense:

 

Seriously?  At a formal evening event?

Compare the above with the 1940 Academy Awards banquet:

‘Nuff said.

Scream Queen

I see with some regret that the exquisite Veronica Carlson, star in many a drive-in horror movie of my youth, passed away last week at, it should be said, a respectable age, of natural causes.

Who she?  you ask.  Let the camera do the talking:

She was unusual among actresses of her time, in that she steadfastly refused to appear naked in her movies — “often nude, always covered” as one critic wrote of her.

I don’t think she needed nudity to be sexy: 

No Fun At All

…and by “fun”, I mean for us fans of Train Smash Women and their regrettable decisions, as we turn our gaze towards the Cheltenham Festival in Gloucestershire, Britishland:

 

…not to mention the ever-debonair Richard Hammond:

And the couples looked fine, too, with nary an exposed boob or garish tattoo:

 

All well and good, but…

Roll on Aintree, I say.

Royal Beauty

One of the best things to come out of the demise of Teh Covidiocy is that horrible sights like this:

…have turned back into visions like this:

Yup;  that’s Royal totty beauty Queen Letizia of Spain.  And despite the fact that she needs several extra helpings of paella, she’ll do just fine:

   

 

And anyone who was born in the town of Oviedo can’t be all bad.  Why Oviedo?  Because that’s where 1893 Mausers (7x57mm) like these were once made:

Like Letizia, they’re slender, elegant and (by my estimation) quite deadly.  I’ve had one and not the other, but I’d take either in a heartbeat.