Under The Boardwalk

I've been rather quiet on the old blogging front of late, mostly due to a mixture of being struck down with what I can only assume is consumption, a spot of childish sulking over not making it as a finalist for the Irish Blog Awards, busying myself with an exciting design project and being generally enthralled by Boardwalk Empire of an evening. It's Prohibition-era Sopranos created by the writer of The Wire, i.e. flipping DEADLY. Not only that, it's criminally gorgeous to look at, a veritable eyegasm of flapper fashions, sharp suits and art deco awesomeness. The title card alone is enough to make me swoon.

See? Gawjus. *thud*

Steve Buscemi is fantastic as Atlantic City's town treasurer, but Michael Kenneth Williams (as in OMAR! 1920s OMAR, people!) as booze-smuggler Chalky White steals every scene he's in, cutting a savage fucking dash with dapper suits, his class crimson fur-collared coat and brand new swear words that prompt a bemused Nucky Thompson to ask "What does motherfucker mean?"


But that's not to say that the other boys of the boardwalk aren't dressed to kill. On the contrary, in fact. Even the kids are well turned out. Look at this little fecker's amazing boots, like.



Which brings me to the Atlantic City ladies. Sparkly showgirls! Temperence League bags of no-craic! Arty bohemians trapped in lousy relationships! But looking lovely all the same.



Nucky's spoiled brat girlfriend Lucy, a pouty, shouty, nearly always naked pain in the ass played with mouthy relish by Paz de la Huerta will annoy the bejaysus out of you, but she certainly gets one of the better wardrobes. She's a filthy bitch to boot, with a creepy habit of calling men she's riding "Daddy". Weirdsville. Population: Lucy.

Ok, that quote is actually from an episode of the Adam West Batman series that I watched today, but it totally works for this picture.

Watch it. Watch it now.