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A blog dedicated to the interesting, scandalous, useful and cutting edge in the world of men’s style, fashion and grooming.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
There’s something kind of frightening about this photo of Robert Redford and Christoper Walken—and we don’t mean in the good way that Walken usually gives us the willies. Perhaps it’s merely the fact that these two incredibly charismatic and stylish cinematic icons have gotten so damned old, while so few young fellows of any discernable panache or even talent have come along to replace them.
Baseball and football movies are thick on the ground, but without crowds to go wild or a big game to close on, skiing movies tend to be a pretty dicey proposition. Luckily, Criterion has dug up what might be the best one, and you can pick it starting tomorrow—just in time for ski season.
Downhill Racer takes Robert Redford through the thrills and doubts of the downhill ski circuit circa 1969. Over the course of 100 minutes, he bristles under authority, makes the acquaintance of an appropriately appealing Swedish woman, and tears through some of the Alps’ better scenery—all a good deal more cinematic than anything you’ll find on a gridiron.
Like The Hustler, it stretches the underdog sports premise into a conflicted meditation on the nature of success. Redford’s great, and so is Gene Hackman as his coach, but for our money the real credit goes to the writer, James Salter, who got the gig by writing some of the era’s best books on machismo. (Further reading here.)
Watch close and you might even pick up a few slalom tricks.
The chaps at the Observer have been noticing a little extra shagginess lately, particularly at the Oscars, where it seemed like every other recipient was sporting a mane.
The writer links the new look to everything from lumberjacks to Billy Reid, but the general 70s vibe is unmistakable. In particular, we’d link George Clooney’s Oscar shag to the Condor-era Redford—which seems to suggest the maligned decade is about to get a revival.
It’s the perfect antidote to the trimmed-and-pomaded Mad Men look that made the rounds a few years back—and for good reason. If you were sporting locks this long in ’62, you’d be lucky to get served in a restaurant. Nowadays, you won’t even offend your barber.
