I recently watched Drive. It’s the type of movie that will make you cooler just by watching it. I mean, really. The movie made the font Mistral in hot pink cool. This is it for Mistral. This is Mistral’s peak, and it’s a high one. I genuinely think this movie is an instant classic. I think the movie poster will be iconic. I also think the scorpion jacket (which you can purchase here) and even the driving gloves (purchase here) will be iconic accessories that will be donned by hipsters on Halloween for years to come.
If you haven’t seen Drive yet, you really should. It’s gritty and artsy at the same time, and the soundtrack is so perfect for the atmosphere of the movie that parts of it look like a music video: a long, gory music video…that stars Ryan Gosling. Anyway, this (hilarious) post was written by Charlotte, who runs a blog called The Wilder Things and also loves Drive. You may remember Charlotte from her awesome guest post about 5 Forgotten Songs from 2005-2007. Throughout her post below, I have embedded my favorite tracks from the excellent Drive soundtrack. These songs can only be listened to while doing cool things, such as driving or reading this post. -Arjun
8am: I wake up wearing my favorite jacket, the one with the scorpion on it. My hair is perfect, even though I just got out of bed. I pause at the window and stare out at the woods. My dog bounds around my ankles trying to get me to take her out to pee. I stare at her, look back towards the window, grab her leash, and walk her outside.
8:30am: Breakfast time. I live with my mother and father, and they are having toast, exclaiming over the paper at Jeremy Lin’s latest success. I stare at the front page, grab a few grapes, and put on the perforated leather driving gloves I got from my grandmother’s attic. I leave without saying anything.
10am: I get in my Jeep to go pick up some toothpaste, as I’ve just run out. Music beats in my ears; a a woman crooning “a reeeeaaaal human being” over and over. I don’t know where the music is coming from because I didn’t turn the radio on, but I betray no signs of confusion and instead keep my chin at a ninety-degree angle, hoping my profile is backlit. It is, even though it’s daytime.
10:30am: I buy the toothpaste. The store clerk looks at the blood-like stain on my Scorpion jacket. I don’t tell her it’s pomegranate juice from Whole Foods that I spilled on myself while driving. I also don’t tell her that my mom has been nagging me to take it to the cleaners. In fact, I say nothing, just hand her a few ones and stalk back outside.
1pm: I go to the gym to work out with my mom and her personal trainer, Hank. I stare at Hank for at least fifty seconds when he asks me, “any kinks in the bod today, Char?” and finally shake my head. I think about telling him I no longer have a name and simply go by Driver or Kid if I must be referred to, but that would require too many words, so I say nothing. We lift kettle-bells and do burpees. The scorpion jacket is too hot and I’m sweating but I don’t take it off. A woman runs to get on the elliptical machine I’m headed for before I do. I contemplate bashing her head in with a dumb-bell to show the world of what I’m capable. Instead, I give her the nastiest look I can muster and say nothing.
2:30pm: Home after the gym, I try to write a post for my blog. But it’s difficult to communicate with words when you make such a point of never using them. Meaningful looks don’t translate well in a Word document. I give up and get in my Jeep. Again the music comes on out of nowhere. Again I keep my chin up. Again I drive.
6:30pm. I meet my boyfriend for dinner. He asks why I still haven’t gotten my jacket cleaned, and why I’m wearing such a masculine jacket with a scorpion on the back in the first place. I stare at him. He asks why I’m staring at him. I get annoyed that he isn’t staring back with meaning, but say nothing. He rolls his eyes. Our food comes. We eat.
7:15pm: I take out my wallet and leave a hundred dollar bill on the table and get up. My boyfriend looks at me with a raised eyebrow, hands me the bill back, and takes out his debit card. “It was a twenty-five dollar meal at an Indian restaurant, Char. I don’t think this hundred is necessary. And why do you have a hundred dollar bill? Also, you spilled tikka-masala on your jacket.” I leave the restaurant; he catches up to me on the sidewalk. I stare at him. He tells me I’m being weird. I drive him home.
9pm: Back at my parents’ house, the dog has to go out again. I put her on the leash and in the car, where the music has magically come on again. I drive twenty yards, take her out of the car, let her pee, and put her back in. We drive twenty yards back. I take her out. The music stops.
10:45pm: I climb into bed with my scorpion jacket on. My mom yells from my parents’ bedroom, “I hope you’re not sleeping in the scorpion jacket again.” The day closes as I close my eyes, wondering whether my profile is once again perfectly backlit. It is.