I watched Bridget Jones's Diary for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It was a gray Saturday when I had a lot of freelance work to do, which means naturally I decided to do none of it, and opted for sitting on my couch browsing Netflix the entire weekend instead.
I am not ashamed to say I enjoyed the film.
I'm a little ashamed, but I'll work through it.
But, my dears: consider how bad ass Bridget Jones is in that movie! She recognizes what she wants and goes for it! She ditches the unnecessary bullshit in her life! She kinda sorta reinvents herself, and in the process, realizes she actually really likes who she is: a hot mess of a woman! I found her inspiring.
And then I watched the sequel, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, and discovered the actual, secret, premise of this series is about a determined woman who, upon finding her own self-worth, is body snatched and replaced by an alien who learned about Earth women by watching generic chick flicks, and thus, very naively, behaves like an idiot.
It was disappointing. She picks a fight with Mr. Darcy for not considering marriage six to eight weeks into their relationship. Do you know what I'm thinking about six to eight weeks into a relationship? Not marriage. It's probably something more along the lines of, "Maybe I should have brushed my hair for this date."
Now, this isn't me trying to say I don't like happy endings, or that people don't need each other. A movie character I've always liked is that of Vivian in Pretty Woman, because sure: maybe she needed a little saving, but when prompted by Richard Gere at the film's conclusion, "So what happened after he climbed up the tower and rescued her?" she retorts, "She rescues him right back." And the truth of the matter is, she was going to go on doing her, with or without homeboy.
Fairy tales are dandy so long as you understand you're not powerless, or that you don't need to be some kind of glamazon in order to be worthy; unlike Cinderfuckinrella, waiting to be found. Pffft, glass slippers. Do you know how painful regular heels are? Get outta here with that mess. That and she also had rats make her clothes, and excuse me, but they obviously have better things to do.
Kait and I started the photoshoot trying to be dramatic as all hell.
And then inevitably it turned into this.
Because how could it not?
I call this piece, How Daniela Feels About Everything In Life.
I take back what I said about wanting to dress like a man, I don't understand how y'all wear this all day.
I CAN'T BREAFE.
I like to practice poses for things that aren't going to happen. For example, this is my CW promo ad for its newest single-girl-in-the-city series that won't live past a three season expiration date pose: 1001 Danielan Nights.
This is my ex-boyband member standalone album cover pose: I Cry Myself to Sleep.
This is my "down to earth, approachable CEO, CFO, and President all-in-one who owns three yachts, a helicopter, and a modest island in the Caribbean, 'But I promise I'm just like you'" Forbes cover pose.
I don't know what happened here, I think I got confused. So did the man behind me.
Head wrap made BY ME, Zara linen blazer, J. Crew silk top, Crewcuts silk skull tie, Marc by Marc Jacobs suspenders, Mango pants, American Apparel PVC shoes, because glass is a liability.
And that's about it. So remember, guys, there's this reality:
Followed by this reality:
Sorry not sorry.