It goes without saying that Helen Mirren is an extremely dishy dame, and that if my face and body can pull off those miracles at fifty-nine, much less sixty-nine, I will renounce my crabapplecism and devote my life to hugs.
But here’s the thing. That’s not great. It just isn’t. Not the sweater, not the lampshade, not the shoes. (I’ll give her the tights. Girlfriend is almost seventy. Do what you need to do, Helen.) I want her to be this unerring bastion of cool, but when it comes to her wardrobe, Dame Helen is mortal.
I cannot believe I’m about to say this, but: Would this be BETTER with a nude shoe that plays off the dress and — if we must keep it — the cardie? I definitely would prefer it if the overskirt were all blue, and not simply a landing strip, and if the underskirt poking out looked less twee. Speaking of twee: this movie. Her accent is distracting in the previews, right? And Of COURSE It’s from the director of Chocolat. Apparently Lasse Hallstrom really enjoys Small-Town Denizens Drop Their Prejudice Through Orgasmic Mouthfeel.
I was going to segue by writing, “Speaking of orgasmic mouthfeel,” but that’s just a lie. Really, I just wanted to share some Mirren Sass.