Window Dressing

Spring Breakers is essentially a teen exploitation film and has very little of the hyperrealism of his 90s cult classic, Kids.  It is quite the opposite; the Tumbler-style image montage of a film appears to be a meditation on the vacuous and the deeply problematic areas of American culture, namely drugs, young girls, white rappers, and group sex.  But the commentary on “aesthetics” as an indication of ideals unsaid is profoundly pertinent to girlhood in this country.  The soundtrack, consisting of two Britney Spears songs at a time when her 5150 and subsequent conservatorship was embedded in culture, draws an unmistakable image of the freedom-seeking at the core of every neon bikini and ‘down to f**k’ branded pair of sweatpants worn in this film.

Emeral Fennel’s 2026 adaptation of Wuthering Heights has become a cultural product of contention. The controversy has focused on the failures of her adaptation of Emily Brontë’s brilliant classic, but from the many, many things I have seen and read that adopt this stance, very few of them include any note to, or awareness of, any other film adaptation of the work. Including, most importantly, the 1939 adaptation, widely considered a classic and the standard-bearer. This is my comparison of all three works, with a focus on what has been lost in the heart of Fennel's version. Namely, real love.

This week, I discuss the most well-known and reviled femme fatale in film history: Phyllis Dietrichson, played by one of the most respected and beloved actresses in American film: Barbara Stanwyck. This episode was originally aired as part of my American Trash and National Treasures series. The video version is in reverence to the Double Indemnity house and in celebration of my upcoming move near it. The 1944 film noir Double Indemnity is one of the shiniest, most monied film noirs produced in its time. The film is based on James M. Cain's book of the same name. The story itself is inspired by a true crime that is so American it smells like apple pie and fresh blood.

This and every episode of Window Dressing is written, performed, researched, costumed, styled, and filmed by Madelaine Jane Auble

This week I bring you a video version of last year’s MTV Summer series. 2025 marked the end of MTV as we know it, although it is not completely wiped from the airwaves.  I wanted to mark its cultural demise with a bang—more specifically, the fondled trigger of Fiona Apple’s gun.  The video vixens, like Alicia Silverstone and Erin Everly, who lit up the visuals for rock gods, are the sisters of the siren writhing on the floor, mouthing vitriolic truths about gender dynamics.   

This week, I revisit my season three theme: Sirens and Gossip Rag Goddesses of The New Millennium to talk about Jessica Simpson.  An obvious pick for this subject, given her harrowing journey through public humiliation, body shaming, and more than one romance that tried to define and then destroy her.  She took all the parts of her that were dismissed as dumb, bubblegum fluff, and too basic, and turned them into a profitable and accessible lifestyle brand, and just released the best record of her career. Let's hear it for the girls, and the bubblegum pop that turns into soulful country.

In my first attempt at an all-video podcast, I reprise my season-one episode on Sharon Tate.  I dive into her impact on American culture, the landscape for female crime victims, and her enduring legacy as the most beautiful woman who ever lived.  I discuss the details of her most iconic role as Jennifer North in The Valley of the Dolls and all her spectacular looks on and off screen—including her mini taffeta wedding dress. In many ways, there would not be a podcast without Sharon Tate, so I thought she would be the best person to usher in the video version.  As always, thank you for tuning into Window Dressing!

This week, I bring you a short bonus episode about the recently released Diddy Doc, The Reckoning: Sean Combs. It comes courtesy of executive producer Curtis “50 Cent " Jackson, and it is a once-in-a-lifetime piece of cultural commentary. I have written extensively about Diddy, in relation to Aubrey O’ Day and the MTV reality show Making the Band. Those episodes are part of the Sirens and Gossip Rag Goddesses of The New Millennium season that came out last year, pre-Diddy trial. This doc features Aubrey heavily, along with many people we haven't heard from in the numerous docs, and reports on the charges against Sean Combs.

This week, I have a special treat, inspired by my house guest, Elliott the cat. Elliott has been with me for ten days, so in honor of his short stay, I am going to talk about The Long Goodbye starring Elliott Gould and his orange cat. The book on which it is based was first published in 1953 and was the 6th in Raymond Chandler's detective series featuring Philip Marlowe. It was adapted for the screen in 1973 by famed female fiction and screenwriter Leigh Brackett, whose credits also include the 1946 film noir The Big Sleep. Directed by Robert Altman and with cinematography by Vilmos Zsigmond, whose work is credited with crafting the look of the 1970s in film. The Long Goodbye was the height of Neo-noir and part of what I consider to be one of the best periods in American film. It is also a quintessentially Los Angeles story, primarily filmed in the city at landmark locations with symbolism aligned with the very heart of this town.

In this episode, I discuss Rebecca. The beloved book written by Daphne Du Maurier was adapted for the screen in 1940 by Hitchcock and features former Heathcliff actor, fresh from the moors of Wuthering Heights the year before, Lawrence Olivier. He plays Maximillion De Winter, the widowed gentleman of the manor, Manderley. His young, and I mean young, bride is the no-name narrator of the story—Played by Joan Fontaine. The most brilliant of all the characters, except for Manderly itself, which takes on a Howards End level of lore throughout the story, is Rebecca. The remnants of her ghost are what keep the mystery of love alive in the brick and mortar alter that the living cohabitate in.

Special thanks to @classicjohnny

In this episode of Window Dressing’s Gothic Romance series, I talk about the 1945 adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey, published in 1890. The story is as classic as a fairy tale or fable. The film features Angela Lansbury in her second film role, following her debut in the topic of the last episode in this series, Gaslight. She plays Sybil Vain in Dorian Gray—a kind of snow white type minus the aid of woodland creatures. She is remarkable in this movie and becomes the most memorable part of the film, except for the special effects that use color in an otherwise black-and-white film to depict the horrific changes to Dorian Gray’s soul. Donna Reed plays Gladys Hallard, another Snow White type, but of the more advantaged variety, one with the grace of a family name and the incorruptible innocence afforded to societally valued women. The fewer options a woman has, the more likely she is to choose survival over socially decreed morality. She is also more susceptible to becoming prey for the sport of those more optioned gentlemen who come a calling.