Chris Pine, you may have noticed lately, is bravely transforming into Jeff Bridges. If you have eyes and a wifi connection, you might have noticed this change. The actor, famous for Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement and Hell or High Water and, most importantly, this one Star Trek interview from 2009 that had the Tumblr girls besotted, is Bridges junior, Bridges adjacent. The grown-out blonde hair, the facial hair (artfully scraggly, not raggedy), that certain masculine jenny se quah — it’s giving Bridges, Kris Kristofferson, a little bit James Caan, an undertone of Robert Redford. (Or, basically, most of the men that starred opposite Barbra Streisand — she is always ahead of her time.)
I am in favor of this change — more men should be making this leap, if you ask me. But there is one detail that fills me with equal parts glee and disgust. I am repulsed by it as much as I relish in it. It makes absolutely zero sense to me one moment, and the next I think, ‘Well nothing really makes sense anyway if you think about it for too long. And that’s why I’m so bad at math.’ I am, of course, speaking about Chris Pine and his Silly Little Shoes.
The Silly Little Shoe — SLS, you could call them — is at once completely impractical but totally correct. It is an act of narcissism but also a luxurious personal adornment. It is right for no occasion but also wrong for no occasion — it is, if you can believe it, occasion-less! The Silly Little Shoe says: I’m not in a rush, darling. I am on God’s timing, not man’s. The Silly Little Shoes says: Here is Silly Little Me. 🤭
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