If you don’t get the title, it’s a nod to Gaby Teller, Alicia Vikander’s character in The Man From UNCLE, aka my favorite movie of 2015, aka the most fetching portrayal of the 60’s, aka the movie where Henry Cavill plays an American, Armie Hammer plays a Russian and Alicia Vikander plays a German and the result is three unfairly pretty people being dorks and somehow also super spies. Other notable accolades include, but are not limited too: Rome in its glitzy glory, color-blocked dresses and clunky heels in their glory, all set against boutiques, plazas, hotels and racetracks. 10/10 recommend, for the record.
A friend and I decided to run down to Austin last Friday–we’re barely two hours north of it, it’s a huge metropolis, and there are only so many coffee shops in Waco. Full disclosure, this trip went nothing like we’d planned. Of the four outfit shoots we’d planned to get in, only the pictures for one post (you’re reading it, btw), turned out. There was insane traffic and delays, some snide remarks from waiters and cashiers, ridiculous humidity and hills, and a venture for snow-cones ended in a white stag chase. But, it wasn’t a wash. I might not have gotten pictures for several weeks’ layaway of posts, but I did get to capture a few shots of the girl who usually takes my picture (I’ll be doing a post on her soon, I’ll link it here once it’s up). We had an excellent brie, saw our fill of murals and street art, jammed out to hours of a throwback playlist, watched a pretty sunset over the capital building, and realized an appreciation for the familiarity that comes with claiming a campus as home for 4 years.
I do somewhat regret bringing up the fact that The Man from UNCLE served as inspiration for this shoot, since I fall ridiculously short of the Vikander standard, and navigating through UT Austin is hardly comparable to traversing an island fortress. But, to each their own [adventure]. I think what matters is that you decide to take that adventure–be it a day trip, imitating fashion that inspires you, or international espionage.
p.s. The pattern on the dress isn’t white polka dots, I promise. I do love that pattern, but I’m not someone who can pull it off in excess (it requires a certain “I’d rather be dangling my saddle shoes off a red patent-leather bar stool at a 1950’s soda fountain” air that I generally don’t possess). Interestingly enough, it’s a bunch of ‘L’s, with orange and yellow tips.