Words can’t describe how grateful I am for the last week in Paris. From attending the incredible @chanelofficial show at the Grand Palais, to having an intimate tour of Coco Chanel’s apartment on Rue Cambon, to attending a women’s rights rally at La Republique, and having sleepovers with my best friend every night. I feel like I’m dreaming. Thank you @chanelofficial I feel so lucky. 🇫🇷❤
How to Get Away With Murder fans have really been shipping Aja Naomi King and Alfred Enoch.
We’re talking about a real-life romance.
And Ms. King is doing nothing to quell the hopeful whispers that really took off earlier this week when King posted a pic on Instagram of her and her parents visiting with Enoch in London.
I caught up with The Birth of Nation actress last night at The Hollywood Reporter’s Most Powerful Stylists dinner and asked if she wanted to clear up any of the dating speculations. After all, Enoch was photographed just last month apparently kissing a mystery woman believed to be his girlfriend during Carnival in Rio de Janeiro.
“I would like to clear up nothing,” King said with a big smile and a big laugh. “People could think what they want and I’m going to let them.”
She then laughed some more. “He’s a beautiful man and I think I’m quite a lovely young lady,” she said.
Too cute—but what a tease!
King captioned the photo of her parents and Enoch, “Had the best time in Paris and London. Another great adventure with the people I love most in the world!!!”
“My parents love Alfie,” King said. “They do. They do.”
Getting used to hearing him talk in Great Britain took some getting used to. “It’s so weird,” King said. “When he was here, he would only speak with an American dialect. It’s really startling. So when I called him for us to get together in London, I was like, ‘Where are you doing? Talk normal. Stop speaking in this weird accent.’”
Love life aside, King attended THR’s dinner with her stylist Tara Swennen. The actress looked perfectly chic in a butterfly print Roland Mouret dress and Jimmy Choo heels. She credited Swennen for “nudging” her out of her comfort zone when it comes to fashion.
“I’m such a sweet girlie girl and I like that she edges it up a little bit. She’ll so some really funky things with me,” she said. “Make it a little more va-va-voom. Make it a little sexier. It’s nice.”
Imperial German Army, the Paris Gun (German: Paris-Geschütz / Parizer Kanone), the largest artillery piece of the Great War, used to shell the french capital with impunity from 120km away, hence its name.
Overall considered more of a psychological weapon, as the caliber and shell weight, alongside poor accuracy and extreme barrel wear meant the weapon had little destructive power.
Having grown up in DC, statues of various dead guys on horses are basically background radiation, or they were before I became Hamilton trash and started noticing them again. Now it’s like every time I turn around there’s a Founding Father looking at me like I personally disappointed him, and it’s getting a little unnerving.
Although: as a result, I sort of want to write a magical realism thing where that can really happen. Where if you do something they would have disagreed with strongly enough, the statues climb down off their columns and lumber down Mass Ave to the Russell Building or the Capitol, where they stand on the sidewalk, arms crossed, glaring into the window of whoever’s just introduced legislation that offended them. They don’t speak, or attack anyone, or damage anything– well, they do tend to bump their heads on low-handing streetlights, sometimes, but that doesn’t count. Mostly they just stand there, mournful, accusing, for everyone to see.
Sometimes lawmakers can talk them around, convince them they’re not actually betraying the political ideals of their predecessors. Politicians who are good at this tend to have much, much longer careers than the ones who aren’t. Politicians who piss off the wrong statues seldom get reelected.
George Washington rarely budges, and when he does it’s front-page news, nationwide. Madison’s always been easier to talk around than most. Hamilton spend more time off his plinth than on it, but he cools off fast. Jefferson holds grudges, to the point that hardly anyone worries too much about making him mad.
It’s not just politicians, either, and they don’t always come to life in anger. Joan of Arc’s bronze horse will shiver to life in Malcolm X Park, sometimes, and carry her off to join protest marches, when she thinks their cause is just. Gandhi walked with Iraq War protestors. The Spirit of American Womanhood, outside Constitution Hall, danced on the day that Roe v. Wade was decided, and when Obergefell vs. Hodge went through, Eleanor Roosevelt taught a clumsy Lindy to Baron von Steuben.
Lincoln has only risen from his seat once since he was put there in 1922, and that was to nod in solemn approval at LBJ from the White House lawn.
Some cities rarely put up statues, and many have taken theirs down. Paris has a great many artists and writers memorialized, and curiously few politicians. In London, during the Blitz, Nelson shinned down his column to help dig people out of collapsed buildings, until he was broken to pieces himself; he stands atop the column again today, reassembled, but has never moved since. In the last months of the Soviet Union, a desperate Communist Party had the statues of Moscow chained in place. These days, Monument Avenue in Richmond is punctuated with a long series of empty plinths and bare columns.