It was Sunday night or early Monday, during an interview that Jordi Basté did with Juan Antonio Bayona, after the Oscars ceremony. Basté became interested in a type of brooch that Bayona was wearing; At the time it was not clear to me where. The next day, looking at the photos, I assumed that it was the small, elongated badge that the filmmaker wore on the left lapel of his jacket. In any case, whatever it was, Basté asked him what he represented. Bayona told him that he didn't know, that he was wearing it because his stylist had told him to wear it.
I was stunned. The situation reminded me of people who wear t-shirts with a slogan on their chest and, when asked if they know what it means, they answer that they have no idea. The one who has stolen my heart – I have spoken here several times about her – is the one who proclaims “Treat me like the slut that I am.” If you do not have a minimum level of English, the person who gets it goes around the world offering offers without knowing it. There are a lot of similar cases.
I have never had a stylist who told me how I should dress and what accessories I should wear. Otherwise my life would have been gone if I had had one. I would never have been aware of the meaning of each piece I wear. I have never had dealings with stylists, but as a child I was fascinated by the Stylites, the Christian anchorites from the Middle East that we studied in religion class. Dedicated to prayer and penance, they lived completely alone on top of an isolated column and spent years there, without even going down to pee. When I was older I saw the movie Simón del Desierto, by Luis Buñuel, which tells the life of the most famous of them all, and now I think that I would have loved to have had a styling coach, and that his name would have been Simón: Simón the stylist.
