Besides being breathtakingly beautiful in every way possible, Hepburn as Golightly epitomizes New York City high society and the beneficial significance of sartorial perfection. Her outfits accurately translate the character's emotion-- all-time highs as well as pitfalls-- and I could only dream that my wardrobe was as incredible as hers. Even when performing a hauntingly soothing rendition of "Moon River" on the fire escape in a simple cotton top and headscarf, Hepburn looks amazing, giving a new meaning to the recycled term "casual luxury". Perhaps my favorite look of the entire film is the cream one-shouldered toga frock she donned as the hostess of a banging apartment soiree (the cops were called-- Audrey knows how to rage). Not only was this dress considered darling in the sixties, but it could easily be worn in today's context and be just as fashionably powerful.
I say this time and time again, but fit and form were clearly much more of a priority to people in earlier decades than now, as these concepts are executed moreso in this movie than can be found anywhere else. This totally doesn't have to be the case, but why have we as dressers in the 2000's become so damn lazy? Instead of always looking pressed and polished like the hunky gentleman George Peppard, guys now seem to just throw on whatever's clean, then wonder why the hell girls aren't flocking after them. Similarly, girls resort to purchasing blah garments created of subpar fabrics that "work", or ridiculously-priced items stamped all over with designer logos, but don't flatter them in the least and contribute nothing to the style pool. Bo-ring.
I'm not saying tailored tweed suits and shift dresses emphasizing clean lines are the solution to every single occasion today, but people, please clean yourselves up. If everyone simply honored this understanding of fit and dressed with as much flair as the characters in Breakfast at Tiffany's did, the world would just be such a better place. There would be no more trashy colorblocked elastic-waist dresses, heinous crochet-neck babydoll tops (undoubtedly paired with so-boring J. Crew shorts) or flimsy floral sundresses that were probably constructed for less than a dollar. When I'm baller, I really am going to make it a point to save the world.
Here's to you, fashion. Cheers.