(This is a new feature in wherein we dissect the outfits of Michael Pitt like an overly enthusiastic sixth-grader would a frog dripping with designer formaldehyde.)
Back in in high school, we always felt a weird affinity for the goth kids. They never did their homework, were categorically incapable of making eye contact, and took all the good seats at the back of the bus, but we admired the sheer level of commitment they gave to their bizarre little black-and-red clique anyway. Plus, they usually had Vicodin and were willing to trade a few pills for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.
But the thing that makes Michael Pitt different from Angel, Sergio and Spider is that it’s painfully obviously just by glancing at those blue eyes (what, cat contacts were too expensive?) that the commitment level isn’t there. Michael has never worn a corset or painted his face with blood or jerked off to a pair of angel wings strapped onto an umbrella, and for that reason we can’t respect this little foray into goth subculture. Angel never once strayed from to his all-black look — probably because his entire wardrobe consisted of a hoodie, two button-downs, an AFI tee and a pair of ketchup-stained boots from Goodwill. But Michael will don the occasional tuxedo or hit the red carpet looking much more Kurt Cobain than Robert Smith. And he has never once growled in public.
Angel always smelled vaguely of weed and nail polish, but it was okay because you’d learn to expect it. And Angel always shaved, because if he didn’t you wouldn’t be able to see his spiky chin piercing. And even if it meant taking a Sharpie to his secretly-blonde follicles, Angel would never, ever, ever let his roots show.