noirheroine
Somewhat of an ode to Tarantino women. Something to listen to when you’re putting on your lipstick, whether it’s to go out on a date or to go burn up some Nazis.
screengoddess:

 lacontessa: Judy, Hedy & Lana (via)
screengoddess:

Virginia Mayo 1945
jeremieladouceur:

Madonna by Mario Testino
rolledtrousers:

Pursuit
He found some of her in a music video, some hangup carried over from the eighties, all saturated colour and neon sensibilities. Somehow they’d managed to leave behind the terrible hair, and just kept the short jackets and lurid fashion sense. She was just a smile and the beautiful suggestion of a curve resting on her stomach. The wink of a tattoo peeking out over her hip. 
He found some of her on a cereal packet, in the cant of the girl’s head. The platitudes, sales tactics to get him to eat more of this, or less of that, didn’t matter. It was the suggestion of something more in that tilt, as if the girl wasn’t quite sure what she was being asked to do. Pleased confusion, now there was something.
He found a few pieces in the books her read, scattered like ash after an explosion, filtering down through the earth, the water, dispersed on the wind. There were scenes, and there were characters, and she was there in all of them, and none of them quite managed the muster. A single line from Hemingway, the quizzical aloofness of Ballard’s women. 
More still, was she found in his past. Every girl he’d ever spent time with had had a pinch, or maybe a little more. As if it was dusted on cheeks, noses, brows. The slightest of makeup, just enough to make him recognise something that wasn’t quite there. And to keep him interested, until he realised it wasn’t. 
He found her in the back of a nightclub, in the middle of a group of people, laughing, but not with them. Maybe it was the cadence of her voice, or the fact that her enthusiasm was just a notch pulled back from theirs, but either way he knew. When you spend long enough stumbling on red herrings, eventually you’re going to know when you find something that isn’t. 
So he walked over and introduced himself.
beyonce:

Brooklyn, New York December 2013
Photographed by Robin Harper
transientrandom:

sugar • just dragonflies