Wes Anderson films always leave me feeling wistful. I can't explain it, and notwithstanding a few friends' disdain for anything that is the product of Sophia Coppola or Wes Anderson, I shamelessly tell you now that I could watch and rewatch those films happily.
I finally watched The Darjeeling Limited. Actually, I watched it about 2 months ago, on a rainy Oregon day, with a nice cup of coffee, a handful of chocolate bon-bons, and a healthy appetite for some aesthetic indulgence. Oh, and a warm blanket. It was a perfect afternoon.
Naturally, I enjoyed it. As it just so happens, India is one of the top 5 places to visit on my immediate travel list, so my wanderlust responded immediately to the film's images. (I would have visited India last August, but a friend suggested that I not go in what is quite possibly the hottest month of the year. I obliged.)
Even moreso, I enjoyed the cameo of the dead father's monogram, initialed luggage. I wasn't so much impressed that they were specially-made Marc Jacobs for Vuitton--that is more Vila's luxurious taste than mine (I know you're reading this). I was, however, overwhelmingly taken by the idea of worn-in luggage, personalized, so perfectly weathered and particularly suited to one's identity.
Call me sentimental if you must.
This reminded me instantly of a vintage briefcase/attaché that my sister purchased for me last year in celebration of graduation. Weathered? Yes, perfectly, in a cognac-colored hue, rich and warm. The handles showed subtle signs of age, but they remained in tact and strong. Upon receipt, I unhooked the brass clasp and curiously peered inside, wondering what papers and important documents it once housed, what possible secrets it kept safe. I imagine the weight of those items must have been heavy. Yes, very important.
Alas, the briefcase presently sits in the trunk of my car. But someday, I promise you, I'll put it to good use ... maybe perhaps even etch an initial or two.
Coming across this picture also didn't help: