But on the red carpet for On The Road
But on the authentic louis vuitton red carpet for On The Road, a special presentation at TIFF, her fans had either forgiven or were smart enough not to care. She isn’t lying about Steinbeck, who is, by the way, her “favourite favourite author.” From the other side of the handrail, I watched her graffiti a fan’s brand-new paperback. Her right stiletto trembled more than her left. Today, tucked into the Intercontinental Hotel for a round of tape-recorded torture, Stewart is wearing flats. She sits cross-legged and impatient, like a kid on a too-short chair. After a few minutes I point into her lap and she thinks I’m complimenting the flats, which are very faux-punk pirate. No, I’m pointing to the splint on her middle finger. She laughs, then mimics herself: “Aren’t my louis vuitton sale shoes great?” Stewart is so private that when I ask what happened, she says only that she broke her finger (duh). And in person she is chill but so fierce-looking and wounded, like one of those stray cats who despise your kindness, that I don’t ask again. We talk more about books. Stewart loves not just male writers, but dude writers: Charles Bukowski, Henry Miller, and Jack Kerouac, who led her to the others. It’s his original scroll of On The Road, sensorial and vital and raw, that Walter Salles ( The Motorcycle Diaries) transmogrifies into this wish-fulfilling ramble of louis vuitton handbags a film.