How Timothée Chalamet Taught Me To Dress Like A Victorian
I want to hate him, I really do. That impossible jawline. That Disney prince hair. That wide-leg swagger, like a Komodo dragon, that lets him fill the screen despite a boyish thinness. But alas, I am but flesh and blood. This is Chalamet's kingdom and we are just the thirsty townsfolk. At the end of last year, Lyst named ol' (annoyingly young) Timmo the most influentially stylish man in Hollywood. Based on the data of 104million users, his red-carpet antics led to the highest spikes in searches, purchases, news coverage and social media throughout the entirety of 2019. The pillars of the Chalametian style canon are well documented. That shimmering Vuitton hoody at the premiere for The King, the Berluti white-tie tux at the Vanity Fair Oscar party, all the Haider Ackermann stuff. (Especially that off-grey Star Trek suit, which made some of the more earnest fashion types actually lose parts of their own human minds. Gone. Right out the ears. In a puddle on the floor.) T
