Before the times when my best friend and I got caught hiding under duvet covers watching Gossip Girl in the dorm rooms of our boarding school, there was Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Saturday Mornings, Afternoons and even evenings before mass, this film would be on constant repeat and saying I was obsessed never went down well.
I preferred infatuated, but to be honest, let's not lie; I was obsessed. This was one of the many films I’d made my best friends watch all the time, clearly it was by force because by the time the movie had ended I was the only one left in the room.
I preferred infatuated, but to be honest, let's not lie; I was obsessed. This was one of the many films I’d made my best friends watch all the time, clearly it was by force because by the time the movie had ended I was the only one left in the room.
In year 7 another Audrey addict decided to put on Roman Holiday in our English class, now I was never too fond of black and white movies then and I’d never heard of this Hepburn woman at this time, so we watched the whole movie.
The entire duration felt like it was on for at least 4 hours and already I was asleep within the first fifteen minutes. I still to this day don’t understand why we watched it, but by the time I got my hands on Breakfast at Tiffany’s, It was like gold and the Audrey Hepburn i had previously slept on had rebirthed in my brain and was now known as Holly Golightly.
The entire duration felt like it was on for at least 4 hours and already I was asleep within the first fifteen minutes. I still to this day don’t understand why we watched it, but by the time I got my hands on Breakfast at Tiffany’s, It was like gold and the Audrey Hepburn i had previously slept on had rebirthed in my brain and was now known as Holly Golightly.
I always felt Golightly was like myself. We were both irrational in our train of thought, we created our own theories in our head and were both very much blind to everything that was real. We were in a constant dream. The only thing that pretty much set us apart was the fact she was a gold digger and I, not even in the slightest. For some weird reason, I stopped watching it, well that was until last night and I fell in love with it all over again.
Golighlty is vunerable, she’s a “chicken” infact, she’s a super chicken! Except from the fact that her style is effortlessly classy, to the point where she pulls off wearing the same bed cloth that I can only imagine many freshers wear at greek toga parties which end up either completely ripped or even better; lost, it displays many people’s way out of the word commitment. She’s been stuck in the same rut that even the nameless cat; stays nameless.
Poor cat! Poor slob! Poor slob without a name! The way I see it I haven’t got the right to give him one. We don’t belong to each other. We just took up one day by the river. I don’t want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I’m not sure where that is but I know what it is like. It’s like Tiffany’s.
It leads me question, do we fear commitment that bad that we just feed ourselves with more lies and fallacies? We could be like Golightly, but it shouldn’t take us through so many rats, super rats and scared mice for us to realize what true happiness is, whether we are scared or not. Even though the scene starts with Audrey by herself, looking into the Tiffany’s jewellerry store, Holly Golightly’s character is properly introduced with the cat laid on top of her whilst she’s asleep.
You seem to understand her more with the cat, so when she parts ways with this nameless “slob” you figure out she is parting also with herself. She believes so much in all these lies that she has absorbed herself in that she can no longer bear to be herself again and as the rain is trickling hard she runs to find the cat, which metaphorically implies that she is running back to grasp hold of herself again. Will there be a time where we ourselves keep running so long, that we can no longer trace back to when the race even begun?
You seem to understand her more with the cat, so when she parts ways with this nameless “slob” you figure out she is parting also with herself. She believes so much in all these lies that she has absorbed herself in that she can no longer bear to be herself again and as the rain is trickling hard she runs to find the cat, which metaphorically implies that she is running back to grasp hold of herself again. Will there be a time where we ourselves keep running so long, that we can no longer trace back to when the race even begun?
