Those glommings-on to older people in his life. Even a casual observer may have picked up on it. Timothée's career thus far has been filled with these sorts of friendships, notably those across generational lines. Sweater, $845, by Gucci / Turtleneck, $150, by Adidas Originals by Wales Bonner / His own jeans, by Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello What was it like to have lived these past two and a half years? It was like a lot of things, but here at the end of it, it just felt good to sleep. When will the other shoe drop? Not there. That sunlight there coming through the trees. But in that cabin, he could sit on the couch for a while and re-familiarize himself with “the crease in the cushion” that he'd lost touch with over the past few years. He got to practice his guitar and harmonica in peace, cook himself his “shitty pasta” without judgment, permit himself space to keep growing up. In the most innocent way, that was what Woodstock was about. He hadn't taken many missteps yet, and it made him uncomfortable, wary, that he would someday. “I want to know what that sounds like!” he shouted. At one point, he stood up and slapped an empty water bottle off the table so that it clattered against the screen of the porch. To make small mistakes now, out of view, when it was just him, when he was still young, so that he didn't have to worry about it later. He craved the privacy to try things and to fuck up. He rented the house in Woodstock, too, so that he could have a little space all to himself.
#Timothee chalamet sidetalk how to
He was a 24-year-old actor, taking advantage of the pause between the second phase of his career and the third and thinking hard, daily, about how to play the next few years. He ran from site to site, with notes he'd kept while reading Dylan's memoir, Chronicles: Volume One, barreling up stairs and peering into windows. In the city, we spent time walking around Greenwich Village, Timothée in an identity-concealing face mask and bucket hat and sunglasses, able to search out old Dylan addresses in an invisibility cloak. He marveled at the way the artist could be out there so much, making such an impact, while also keeping the real person obscured behind the music, the characters in the songs, the language. He fixated on both the art and the persona.
Timothée was late to the party but helplessly obsessed. (He learned how to drive on Beautiful Boy.) All the while Dylan was top of mind. He knew what the cabin might seem like-like some young actor taking himself way too seriously, “treating himself like an artist.” But he was back and forth between Woodstock and New York all month, bombing up and down the interstate in the Honda sedan he'd rented from Enterprise. Sweater, $890, by Gucci / Pants, $268, by Polo Ralph Lauren / Shoes, $895, by Marsèll / Socks, $27, by Falke They were still hydrogen and oxygen, and Timothée Chalamet was all of a sudden water.
Of course they couldn't possibly comprehend the chemical reaction that had just transpired. Outsiders who had witnessed the arrival may have regarded this 22-year-old as being in possession of wealth and clout, but he was suddenly back on his own dime, which amounted to maybe five or six dimes, reticent to stay with family and friends whose lives he felt he was disrupting with all his new baggage. Coat, $4,550, pants (his own), and boots (price upon request) by Prada / Tank top, $42 (for pack of three), by Calvin Klein Underwear / Rings, $1,650 (on index finger) and $6,300 (on middle finger), by Cartierīut the day after the Oscars, the moment the clock struck midnight and his carriage turned into a pumpkin, Chalamet was right back where he'd been before the whole fantasy had begun: in New York, with no credit card, no apartment, and no longer any structured demands on his time and attention. Timothée Chalamet covers the November 2020 issue of GQ.
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