To describe my current style as "no frills" would be a...gross rounding down of the situation I'm in. Frankly, it's gotten pretty bad. Wearing boots with a one-inch heel has convinced me its okay to wear my childhood nightgown....three days in a row...with the exact same jeans and sweater, as all heavy-handed attempts to "dressing" fly out the window when you're going to hide everything under a huge fur coat anyway. Being as the Oscars are right around the riverbend, the on-the-go qualities of my own wardrobe — i.e. no waistbands in case I decide to work from a slouched horizontal position — have left me in constant awe of how well the leading lad of Django Unchained was able to get shit done in his high-stylin' work wares.
There's a certain Ron Swanson-esque quality that shines when a "These are clothes, their only purpose is warmth" attitude is applied to dressing, especially when, in Django's case, all his pieces happen to fall perfectly into place. A shrunken green corduroy jacket and low-slung belt may not be on par with whatever's for sale at Acne, but for utilitarian's sake, it's incredible. There's sort of a "He gets the job done and looks good while doing it" attitude to it, and isn't that what all likeminded folk are trying to do, after all? If you're not of the mindset that stomping your way to work in five-inch stilettos is a necessity, then you're obviously on the same page as this getup, with varying degree.
Given, he gets about thirteen bonus points for being able to wear something atop a horse — Did you ever notice how Tommy Hilfiger's ads always have so much recreational activity equipment shit in them? Instant cool boost — but the tweedy ensemble and the leather accents just kinda work on Jamie Foxx's newly-freed character, and find me wishing my uniform would be that of a blood-stained, fur-collared coat instead of a threadbare pastel t-shirt that used to reach my knobby knees.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking this point. "Uh, Carlye, havent you seen Christoph Waltz's beautiful woolen cape coat? His thick-brimmed hat? His slick-as-fuck fur coat? Why, how could you overlook even his glorious Western animal hide?"
Yes, I know that boing-y tooth was all up on its Charlotte Olympia-style game, and yes, I'm aware his wool suiting is that of a sexy PDT bartender without all the pompous frills. But killer wagon-topper aside, there's one reason Dr. Schultz's mac-daddy style has been easily eclipsed. THIS OL' THING:
Have you ever?! I mean, for someone who adores puffy bows and shirts unironically (I own two, life is short and SOMETIMES I WANT SOME VOLUME OKAY) and would prefer her entire life be draped in colored velvet, this suit reaches levels of perfection previously only met by Pinterest boards of beach waves mixed with Louis CK's comic demeanor. (Things I love atop things I love, in case I didn't articulate that well through my raging hangover.)
But seriously, this suit is dapper as SHIT. I'd compliment his choosing of this royal blue two-piece out of an entire shop of available suits, but anyone who wouldn't immediately go for emuating a snazzed-up blueberry is a fool. A fool, I say! Most iconic looks that I'm endlessly drawn to happen to stem from a "go big or go home" mentality, and going big by way of blue ribbon-lined pants and finding your way back home to your wife simultaneously makes me think it doesn't get much better than that.