framesandrevolutions

[framesandrevolutions]

The Kind of Girl Who Quotes Movies No One Knows

Have you ever been told, “You have such sophisticated taste in movies, how do you do it?” Yeah, me neither. But I have been praised for my taste in film. Why, though? I’ve never seen myself as someone with particularly innovative or even “good” taste. Most of the time, I feel like I’m in a bubble surrounded by people who just happen to get cinema better than I do.

People who have watched obscure Eastern European films from the '60s and can analyze them without sounding like a pretentious Letterboxd review. So, where does that leave me? Somewhere in between admiration and impostor syndrome. Today, I’m unpacking the idea of taste, whether it’s really as unique as we think it is, and if quoting movies no one knows makes you cool… or just the girl who spends way too much time agonizing over which obscure coming-of-age film to watch next.

Is taste earned, learned, or just projected really well?

Growing up, my parents introduced me to almost every classic American director they could think of: Wes Anderson, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Gilliam, and the Coen Brothers. Our living room was basically a crash course in the American film canon. But as I got older, I started flipping the script. I was the one making them watch Fellini’s 8½, Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, and Leone’s The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. So naturally, I started wondering: was I born with good taste, or did I build it over time? Or maybe the better question is: what even is taste?

The Subjectivity of Taste

We love to say it’s subjective, that it all comes down to personal preference.

But is that really true when entire platforms and social circles revolve around what’s “good,” “cult,” or “aesthetic”? According to the article “The Role of Aesthetic Taste in Consumer Behavior” (2011), taste is defined as “the ability to recognize and appreciate qualities of style, beauty, or excellence in creative expressions such as music, art, or fashion, based on individual or cultural preferences.” So if both personal experience and cultural influence shape taste, then maybe having “good taste in movies” just means you’ve learned to recognize what’s considered beautiful, meaningful, or impressive within a certain world.

You’ve picked up on the signals, what kind of cinematography is praised, what kind of pacing feels “serious,” what aesthetics are seen as cool. But that brings up a more profound question: If our sense of taste is shaped by what we’ve been exposed to by our parents, our friends, and the internet, can we really say it’s ours? Or are we just mirroring the values of the culture we happen to be in?

When Algorithms Choose for You

It gets even foggier when social media platforms like TikTok, Letterboxd, and YouTube start introducing us to specific aesthetics, directors, or genres. The more we engage, the more we’re fed, and before we know it, we’re all watching the same set of “underrated” films, each of us convinced our taste is niche and original. But how unique can our cinematic preferences really be? Millions of people have watched these same films. Thousands have them proudly displayed in their “Top 4” on Letterboxd. And if we’re honest, every part of our taste, whether it’s a love for certain directors, actors, or visual styles, has been softly shaped by the media we consume every day.

And yet, despite knowing all of this, I still catch myself quoting movies no one else in the room has seen. Not to sound cool or elite, but because those lines have stayed with me. They’re part of my rhythm. I grew up quoting them. So did my parents. It wasn’t about being impressive, it was just how we communicated. A shared language made of strange dialogue, forgotten characters, and moments that meant something to us, even if no one else knew what we were talking about. It was less about recognition and more about resonance. Because here’s the thing: maybe taste isn’t really about what you like. Maybe it’s about why you like it and how deeply you let it affect you.

So, What Is Taste Really?

Whatever it is, maybe I’m not the kind of girl with the most original or groundbreaking taste in movies. Perhaps I’m just a product of my environment, my parents’ endless DVD collection, my TikTok algorithm, or my oddly specific Letterboxd watchlist. But that doesn’t make my taste any less mine. Taste isn’t really about competing about who’s the most unique, who can reference the most obscure quote, or who has the most intimidating watch history. It’s about what shapes the way you think, talk, and feel.

The movie you watched the summer after you turned 13. That one line that felt so relatable has stuck with you ever since. Or even just a piece of dialogue you still think is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. That’s what taste is. So yes, I’m the kind of girl who sometimes quotes movies no one knows. But it’s not because I want to be different. It’s because those moments, those lines, made me feel something, and I haven’t let them go.

[framesandrevolutions]

Columbia’s Art History Legacy: How NYC Shapes Curation and Museum Studies

When we talk about art history in the United States, one name consistently emerges as a cornerstone of academic excellence and cultural impact: Columbia University. With its long-standing tradition of producing thought leaders in the fields of art history, museum studies, and curatorial practice, Columbia has played a major role in shaping how we engage with visual culture. But Columbia’s strength doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Its power lies in its location—New York City—a living, breathing museum that transforms theory into experience and classrooms into gateways to the world’s greatest collections.

This unique synergy between institution and city has helped make Columbia not just a university, but a launching pad for curators, historians, and cultural critics who influence how we view, preserve, and contextualize art.

The Legacy of Columbia's Department of Art History and Archaeology

Founded in 1875, Columbia’s Department of Art History and Archaeology is one of the oldest in the country. From its earliest years, it has been deeply intertwined with both European traditions and American innovation. Some of the most influential art historians, including Meyer Schapiro and Rosalind Krauss, have taught or studied within its halls.

Schapiro, in particular, helped establish Columbia’s reputation for rigor and originality. His interdisciplinary approach—connecting art with politics, literature, and philosophy—continues to influence generations of scholars. Columbia’s faculty members don’t just teach art history; they expand the discipline, redefine it, and ask new questions. Whether focusing on Medieval manuscripts or contemporary digital art, Columbia encourages students to study art as a social force—not just as aesthetic objects.

Location as Laboratory: New York City as the Classroom

One of the most transformative aspects of studying art history at Columbia is, quite simply, the ability to walk out of class and step into a museum. The university’s location in Morningside Heights places it within immediate proximity to some of the most important cultural institutions in the world:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA)

The Frick Collection

The Guggenheim Museum

The Whitney Museum of American Art

El Museo del Barrio

The Studio Museum in Harlem

This isn’t just convenient—it’s foundational. Students and scholars regularly conduct research using original artworks and archives, attend special exhibitions, and even partner with museums on academic projects. Museum internships and assistantships are integrated into the curriculum, making hands-on experience part of the learning process rather than an optional extra.

Moreover, Columbia’s own campus houses the Wallach Art Gallery, which serves as a testing ground for student curators and an exhibition space for important contemporary and historical work. Recent exhibitions at the Wallach have centered on underrepresented artists, community narratives, and transnational dialogues—mirroring the direction that contemporary curation is taking globally.

The Rise of Curatorial Studies

In response to the evolving role of museums and cultural institutions, Columbia expanded its offerings with the MA in Modern Art: Critical and Curatorial Studies (MODA) program. Launched in 1997, MODA is a bridge between academic study and curatorial practice. It prepares students not just to understand art intellectually, but to organize exhibitions, develop institutional programming, and question how museums shape public understanding of culture.

MODA students benefit from seminars led by curators, critics, and practicing artists, in addition to scholars. They gain insider access to institutions and work on exhibitions from conception to installation. They also investigate pressing issues in the field: decolonizing museums, repatriation of cultural heritage, digital curation, and representation.

What makes MODA especially powerful is that it doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s part of Columbia’s broader ecosystem—linked with the university's art history faculty, the Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library, and its relationships with museums across the city.

Crossroads of Culture: Diversity in NYC and the Push for Equity

New York City is arguably the most diverse cultural capital in the world. This has had a profound impact on Columbia’s approach to art history and museum studies. Being in NYC forces students to confront the limitations of a Western-centric canon and instead explore a truly global perspective.

Columbia courses engage deeply with African, Asian, Latin American, and Indigenous art. And New York's own institutions reflect this expanding narrative. The Brooklyn Museum, for example, features collections that challenge colonial assumptions, while smaller spaces like the Asia Society Museum or The Africa Center offer in-depth perspectives on global contemporary art.

For Columbia students, this means exposure not only to the masterpieces of Western art but to emerging and underrepresented voices—voices they will one day help amplify through curatorial work. The art history curriculum increasingly reflects these values, training students to question institutional power structures and advocate for inclusive practices.

The Network Effect: Alumni and Influence

Columbia alumni are everywhere in the art world—serving as directors, curators, researchers, and policy leaders in major museums and cultural institutions. From The Met to international biennials, Columbia graduates bring with them a sense of intellectual depth, critical inquiry, and civic responsibility.

Examples include:

Thelma Golden, director and chief curator of The Studio Museum in Harlem, who studied art history and African American studies at Smith College but later taught and collaborated with scholars at Columbia.

Ann Temkin, Chief Curator of Painting and Sculpture at MoMA, who earned her PhD at Columbia and now shapes one of the most influential collections of modern art in the world.

Countless others who have contributed to museum publications, education programs, and groundbreaking exhibitions that rethink how art interacts with public life.

The Columbia network is more than professional—it’s philosophical. There is a shared sense of responsibility toward both academic rigor and public accessibility.

Shaping the Future

As museums and cultural institutions face new challenges—economic, political, and ethical—Columbia remains at the forefront of training the next generation of curators and scholars. Questions about restitution, climate change, artificial intelligence, and social justice are no longer peripheral to art history—they are central. And Columbia equips its students to lead these conversations.

It does so not by separating academia from the real world but by embedding study within one of the most vibrant and dynamic cities on Earth. Columbia and New York City don’t just teach art history—they make it, question it, and transform it.

[framesandrevolutions]

The Fashion and History of My Fair Lady

Few films capture the grandeur of historical fashion like My Fair Lady (1964). With stunning costume design by Cecil Beaton and a backdrop of Edwardian England, the film blends opulence with social commentary. Audrey Hepburn’s transformation from a working-class flower girl to a refined lady is not just a Cinderella story—it reflects deeper themes of class mobility, gender roles, and historical fashion.

Edwardian Elegance: Costumes as Storytelling

Beaton’s designs take inspiration from early 1900s high society, an era defined by structured gowns, delicate embroidery, and dramatic hats. Each of Eliza Doolittle’s outfits tells a story:

The Flower Girl Look: Mismatched layers and a rough shawl highlight her working-class status.

The Embassy Ball Gown: A flowing white satin dress symbolizes her arrival into high society.

The Ascot Races Ensemble: The iconic black-and-white look, with exaggerated hats and lace, is a perfect homage to Edwardian fashion.

Edwardian women used fashion as a status symbol, and My Fair Lady reflects this with extravagant hats, gloves, and embroidery—styles popular at events like the Ascot Races.

History’s Role: Class, Gender, and Society

Set in Edwardian London, the film highlights social divisions where speech, wealth, and fashion defined one’s place in society. Eliza’s journey isn’t just about learning etiquette—it’s about realizing that true acceptance requires more than appearances.

The suffragette movement was also gaining momentum at this time, fighting for women’s rights. While My Fair Lady doesn’t explicitly reference it, Eliza’s growing independence echoes the changing roles of women.

Why It Still Matters

Decades later, My Fair Lady continues to influence fashion and film. Designers have drawn inspiration from Beaton’s costumes, and the film remains a study in class, transformation, and historical aesthetics. More than just a love story, it’s a visual and thematic reflection of its time—wrapped in lace, satin, and high society’s rules.

What’s your favorite My Fair Lady fashion moment? Let’s discuss!

[framesandrevolutions]

Marie Antoinette (2006) vs. Reality – Fashion, Rococo, and Coppola’s Artistic Choices

Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006) is a film that straddles the line between historical drama and modern interpretation. While visually stunning and emotionally resonant, it has been criticized for its historical inaccuracies. But does Coppola’s creative approach distort Marie Antoinette’s story, or does it offer a deeper understanding of her as a person? By examining the film’s aesthetic choices—particularly its use of fashion, music, and set design—we can explore how Marie Antoinette compares to historical reality.

Marie Antoinette: The Historical Perspective

Born in 1755, Marie Antoinette was married off at 14 to the Dauphin, Louis XVI, to solidify a Bourbon-Habsburg alliance. Her early years at Versailles were challenging, marked by struggles to adapt to rigid court etiquette and public scrutiny over her inability to produce an heir. Though initially popular, her extravagant lifestyle, preference for privacy at Petit Trianon, and involvement in controversies—such as The Affair of the Diamond Necklace—turned public opinion against her.

While she has been labeled frivolous and out of touch, much of her reputation stems from exaggerated accounts and propaganda. The infamous “Let them eat cake” quote, for example, was falsely attributed to her. In reality, France’s economic crisis had more to do with years of debt and war spending than Marie’s personal expenses. Yet, as the Revolution gained momentum, she became the face of monarchical excess, leading to her execution in 1793.

Coppola’s Interpretation: A Modernized Marie

Coppola’s film takes a unique approach by focusing on Marie Antoinette’s girlhood. Rather than depicting her as a political figure, the film presents her as a teenager navigating privilege, isolation, and expectations. The historical backdrop is secondary to her personal experiences, making the film feel more like a coming-of-age story than a political drama.

This perspective is reinforced through visual storytelling, particularly in the film’s costumes, set design, and music. By blending historically accurate elements with modern aesthetics, Coppola bridges the gap between the 18th century and contemporary audiences.

Fashion: Rococo Meets Pop Culture

Costume designer Milena Canonero embraced 18th-century silhouettes while infusing them with contemporary influences. The film’s color palette plays a significant role in storytelling. Soft pastels dominate Marie’s wardrobe in her early years, reflecting innocence and indulgence. As the Revolution looms, her clothing shifts to darker tones, mirroring her growing isolation.

One of the film’s most famous anachronisms is the pair of Converse sneakers hidden among Marie’s shoes in a shopping montage. This subtle nod reminds viewers that Marie was, at heart, just a teenage girl—similar to modern young women navigating wealth, privilege, and expectations.

Music: A Soundtrack for the Modern Viewer

Rather than using period music, Coppola opts for 1980s post-punk and new wave tracks, creating a striking contrast between visuals and sound. Bow Wow Wow’s I Want Candy plays during a lavish shopping spree, while The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees underscore emotional moments. This choice reinforces Marie’s youth, making her more relatable to contemporary audiences.

While some argue this approach downplays historical accuracy, it serves a purpose: rather than distancing viewers with rigid period details, it invites them to connect with Marie on a human level.

The Artistic vs. The Historical

Does Marie Antoinette blur the lines between history and art? Yes—but intentionally. While it omits significant political events and simplifies Marie’s downfall, it remains surprisingly faithful to her personal life. Many lines are drawn directly from Antonia Fraser’s biography, ensuring emotional accuracy even when historical precision is sacrificed.

Ultimately, Coppola’s film is not about the politics of the French Revolution—it’s about the experience of being young, privileged, and powerless in a world of expectations. By focusing on Marie Antoinette as a person rather than a symbol, the film challenges traditional narratives and offers a fresh, if unconventional, perspective on the last Queen of France.