You know it's September at the Cinecultist household, because our doorstopper arrived in the mail, aka the Fall issue of Vogue. And when we say doorstopper, we're being serious. This mother of a fashion mag wouldn't fit into our measly Eee Vee post box and so the good samaritan Postal Worker or neighbor brought it to our doorstep. It's about 2 inches thick this year.
The big news, if you think this sort of thing counts as news, is that the cover features models not actors or celebrities this year. However, Colin Farrell is on the cover of the men's supplement photographed by Mario Testino and sporting the most porn-tastic moustache we've seen in a long time. We searched high and low via Google for some scanned pics of this 'stache but no such luck. Instead, we offer the following quote from Vicki Woods's article where the writer is literally in heat. Enjoy.
"If you're Colin Farrell, you can do what you like, wherever you like (and, often, to whomever you like). We head for a bar in Malibu where "they let you focken smoke—don't print the name." As we fight our way in, we're almost felled by a wall of noise: bagpipes. Skirling. It's Tartan Day, apparently. Some guys have their plaid shirts tied around their waists, like pretend Scotch kilts, and they're dancing Highland flings, flapping them up when they see women. Farrell (who is still barefoot) maneuvers me toward the bar, grabs a couple of stools, and hoists me up. Then he puts his face in my neck (he has to; the noise is humongous) to ask what I'm drinking, "Eviaaaan? Naw! You'll have a focken drink with me!" OK, OK—California red? He's already halfway down a Coors beer. He likes noisy bars. He's Irish; he enjoys the craic, which is a very Irish word, meaning party atmosphere, buzz, alcohol-feuled fun. Does everyone know how it's pronounced, craic? (Hint: Loose the i.) Farrell tells me the story of when he first arrived from Ireland and went to a Hollywood party where someone asked him how he liked Los Angeles. "I told him the craic's great here." Angelenos are pretty polite, especially when they're talking to Hot New Talent. Farrell acts out the controlled surprise on the guy's face, followed by polite inquiry as to cultural differences: "Um, uh, so, uh—where you come from, what is crack?" We both laugh immoderately, and I almost fall off my stool. So Farrell helpfully drags his own stool closer, slides a hard-muscled leg to either side of mine, and wedges me tight to hold me on. (Did I mention he was in pj's?) Reader, your reporter has interviewed many a screen idol in her time. But Colin Farrell is the first one who ever clamped her to a bar counter with her knees pressed cozily into her crotch."Posted by karen at September 2, 2004 11:40 PM