Suppose one of this newsroom’s favorite topics of conversation is Paul Mescal. Suppose, therefore, that aftersun is one of our movies of the season. In order to see it I had to take my daughters with me to the cinema. We arrived late, sat down hastily, and amid serious protests of boredom, hunger, rebellion, and revenge, managed to see the film. At one point my eldest daughter asked her father: “What is this movie about?” Whoops. THE QUESTION. Of life, I suppose he would answer. I didn’t hear it, nor did the question, a friend who was sitting right in front of me later told me. He was not the only one, in the first row other friends were watching the movie. When leaving, my bored daughters continued with their requests and questions. My friend, the one in the front row, as consolation, told them that when she was little, when she had to spend the weekend with her mother, she would watch all the billboards regardless of whether the movies were for the public or not. age of her Her mother, like us on that ordinary Saturday, had no one to leave her daughter with and so she saw everything, got bored, scared, didn’t understand and complained, but little by little she developed an exquisite taste for very early cinema. and very valuable. That is one of her inheritances. She inherited all the traumas that a complicated separation entailed in a conservative city of the early eighties, she also inherited a passion that was intermingled with many others to form a sensitive, creative, slightly crazy and very free personality.
Inheritance, as Capote said of writing, can be a gift, but also a sentence. You can inherit money and position and also the responsibility to maintain a legacy and continue a saga or a vocation. Our cover actress, Margaret Qualley, knows this well. She tells Raquel Peláez about it on the main pages of this issue, and she confesses that she is, that she is a nepo baby —the appellation with which the children of actors, musicians or powerful characters who end up developing the same career as their famous parents are named—, who has had it easier than other actresses, but who, in her case, also had to accept that he did not have enough talent to dedicate himself to ballet. Sometimes you can’t escape your own heritage. With this idea we started this issue.
I really like how Anabel Vázquez solves part of the mystery controversy nepo baby: it doesn’t work just by being it. There are countless examples of determined ‘sons of’ who have failed in a ridiculous way. Is talent inherited? Not always. Rafa Rodríguez analyzes the power of fashion families, which in an infinite line perpetuate business models that resemble feudal monarchies: “Lineage is valued as talent,” she writes. Leticia García and Patricia Rodríguez compose a four-handed report on archive pieces, those that are valued upwards in the circuits vintage specialists that “try to own the rare garment, the one that speaks of a historical moment in fashion or the one that had a cultural and artistic component”. The ability of the material, of things, to transport us to another time and another place, to another person, to another love or to a happier age is well observed in inheritances. I would have loved someone to keep the magnetic bracelet, the one with the two copper balls, that my father wore on his wrist in those summers and that reflected all his contradictions. You can buy it for about 10 euros, but the one I want is yours.
#Intangible #heritage #Fashion #Fashion #PAÍS
