In the car one night after a friend's birthday dinner at yet another one of those dimly lit, nondescript eateries serving pricey comfort food, the boyfriend remarked to me that the girl I had photographed for this week's column reminded him of Lisa Bonet.
I paused, knowing full well the implication of his statement: Lisa Bonet is his ideal. Don't take that the wrong way. It's not quite like that Friends episode in which Ross and Rachel put together their "freebie" lists (people they can sleep with without the other one getting upset), and Ross ends up with a thoroughly dated lineup of Uma Thurman, Winona Ryder, Elizabeth Hurley, Michelle Pfieffer and Dorothy Hamill.
Lisa Bonet is, to him, the utmost example of beauty—followed closely by Tina Fey. And who can blame him? If she hadn't already won you over as Denise Huxtable, then break out your DVD copy of High Fidelity and fast-forward to the scene where she croons "Baby, I Love Your Way"—"Is that Peter fucking Frampton?"—all hot, smoky and sultry, with her braids and half-closed bedroom eyes.
Aside from the fact they're unattainable celebrities, I gotta say I thoroughly approve of his "list." No blond bombshells with G-cups pervade, no Angelinas, no salacious curves-in short, no obvious beauties. Or blondes.
Which is fine by me.
I've got to admit, his comparison of Lisa Bonet to our gal here is pretty spot-on, if not in looks, then at least in attitude and style. As mentioned in the past, that I-rolled-out-of-bed-this-way look is huge right now, but this girl managed to achieve it without skipping on the showering and hygenic upkeep. Her oversized, striped sweater gently fell off her shoulders as she moved about the room; her simple black trousers fit into simple, unadorned black-leather mid-calf boots. The only skin she was showing was the occasional single shoulder. The only accessories she had on was a simple jade pendant on a thin gold chain.
The hair, always key to the apathetic nonchalance look, isn't ratty and tangled like many of Hollywood's It-girls have right now, with the dirty body-wave perms (Olsens, etc.), but she did have the all-important sidebangs swooping over one eye. Sidebangs and bangs in general have the ability to render anybody's haircut into something more interesting. It adds depth to basic cuts, and there's something wonderfully mysterious when part of one's face is concealed like that.
Anyway, this whole ideal "list" thing: You know you've got one, and your significant other's got one—even if they say they don't. Me? I'm okay with it, as long as I approve. I think I'd be more stoked than he would, should Lisa Bonet bizarrely happen across his path one day.
And then I'd get mad at him for not calling.
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