The fondness I have of Audrey Hepburn began innocently, from hearing of her greatness online and wanting to know why her name was so recognized. Even after looking her up, I had trouble distinguishing her with other greats from the time period, none of whom I’d been exposed to. After I realized that none of her movies were in the free section on Xfinity’s ondemand, nor were they part of my family’s DVD collection, I forgot about the idea of watching old movies. That was, until I encountered Breakfast at Tiffany’s in a Plato’s Closet. I bought the dvd (along with 300, because apparently I was on a roll of obtaining classic movies) and watched it that night.
Watching the film was the first of many experiences of this feeling I’d end up having as I watched more Audrey Hepburn movies. I can’t call it nostalgia, because I’d never seen the movie nor had I been alive in the time period, but I felt this sudden sadness that I could never visit the New York Holly Golightly lived in. It almost made me curse the 21st century for the decline of the cafe-society atmosphere, but then I remembered all of the benefits of living in 2013. I must admit, however, that watching the movie back and making this made me yearn for a time machine once again. But maybe the movie is only quaint because we can’t go into #597 of Fortune’s 500 (or should this be 1000?) and order an engraving for a cheap ring today. Or, at least we shouldn’t be able to.
This movie, just classic enough that I would never consider it overrated, has stuck with me ever since I watched it (which, to be fair, has only been a couple of years). My phone background, a picture of Holly sleeping in her turquoise sleeping mask, caught the eye of several of my friends, though they thought I got the picture from a mattress advertisement. I attribute my habit of watching old movies to Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which gave me the inexplicable feeling that even if I had a terrible day, watching Lauren Bacall or Gregory Peck is bound to improve my mood.
Enough of me being sappy, though. I consider this one of my favourite pieces that I’ve ever made, mostly because of the authenticity of the piece. Nearly every panel is directly traced or derived exactly from a prop in the movie. I learned more about this film than I would have ever expected while making this, including learning of the brand Oliver Goldsmith and the impressive career of the no-name slob, Cat. I’m not sure if this counts as flat design (I’ve never seen a flat design piece without shadows), especially because the mask took hours, but creating this was an intro into simpler design.