This morning, I bought a terrier graphic cotton t-shirt because I had seen it on Emma Stone and liked it. I even liked the way she styled it so much I’m planning to pretty much reproduce her whole outfit. Considering the acknowledged influence of celebrity dressing, this isn’t exactly breaking behaviour, yet it is for me. The bright patent leather corset belt I used to accessorise every single navy and stripy dress with has been my drawer’s favourite every since Cheryl Cole wore it.
Yet for some reason, my reaction to what Emma Stone wears is different. Like most people, I first discovered her two years ago in Easy A, my top “film I wish I had seen as a teen”, and I have since watched every film she’s featured in. Not only does she sell me movie tickets, she also sells me magazines, UK Vogue, US Vogue and Teen Vogue this month which, considering the only publications I buy these days are Foreign Affairs, Monocle and the Harvard Business Review, is quite something. I find her a very talented actress, like the sense of humour and wit she displays during interviews and like her collaboration with stylist Petra Flannery. Although she’s 14 centimetres taller than me, I live under the delusion that what she wears would suit me too, a delusion strengthened by the fact her default outfit in street style pictures seems to be close to my favourite jacket-top-skinny jeans. So that’s how Emma Stone sold me a t-shirt, and got my eyes on a few more she wore during The Amazing Spider-Man promotional tour.
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