My Princess of Genovia fantasy

Carolina Herrera at Cannes. A little story time behind the dress.

We all love critiquing red carpet looks from our sweats on the couch, but we rarely hear the full story behind the dress. What goes into curating the look, are there any fistfights over ballgowns etc. I thought I’d pull back the curtain, starting with my favorite dress of late: the floral Carolina Herrera gown I wore to the Cannes Film Festival.

Let’s start at the beginning. I landed in Cannes after one of the nastiest flights I’ve ever had. For the first time in years, full menty b. Ok maybe not years because those tend to happen every time I pop out a kid, but they don’t usually happen on a transatlantic flight. Something about the heat on the plane, the claustrophobia, the thought of being trapped over the Atlantic in a flying sauna, it completely rattled me. I dumped ice down my shirt and repeated mantras until I calmed down enough to be fully embarrassed of myself. Looking back, I think I was just in an anxious state overall. I had a dental implant coming up that I was dreading (dental work is one of my core fears thanks to some past trauma), and I always get anxious before events like Cannes. Every time I go, I feel a bit out of place. Somewhere between “actress” and “mom-toker,” like I’m not quite sure which world I belong to.

But the truth is: no one’s thinking about you. They’re thinking about themselves. Their dress, their angle, their moment. Once I remember that, I can let go and enjoy the experience. And it really is amazing to get to work with these legendary fashion houses and attend wild, beautiful events. No, not for my movies (as my siblings so lovingly remind me), but still…what a dream!

So I landed, frazzled and jet-lagged, and had to go straight to an event for my friend Toni Garrn and her foundation. She’s hot, tall, smart AND philanthropic, and I’m very jealous of her. My room wasn’t ready, so I got changed in the spa, gave myself the world’s saddest underarm wipe-shower, did some extremely questionable makeup, and threw on a Frankie Shop suit my stylist Amarsana had left for me. She knows what she’s doing, and you can’t go wrong with a power suit, so it was perfect.

We got back to the hotel in the early evening and started fittings for the premiere. We tried a few dresses from smaller designers but none of them were quite right. Too see-through, too heavy, too TIGHT. Like teeny tiny. Like sized-for-my-four-year-old tight, but that’s a story (rant?) for another day. Needless to say, things weren't looking good after the first batch. Then the lovely PR for one of my favorite designers (who I’d worn at a previous Cannes) walked in with an armful of gorg gowns. My eye landed on a lilac dress: flowy, feminine, fitted through the bodice. It felt ethereal and so comfortable. I was sold. We told her that we thought this was the one but we’d let her know for sure the next day.

Amarsana also wanted us to go and look at the Carolina Herrera collection, and because I trust her with my life and my body, I agreed. Scanning through the rack we spotted it: a big, floral princess gown. Something I’d NEVER normally go for given I’m terrified I'm not elegant enough to pull that type of look off. Ya know - couture to dollar store kinda energy. There was also a rule this year that you couldn’t do anything too oversized since in previous years some of the dresses took up the entire French Riviera. But something about it spoke to me. It was just so pretty. Full but fitted in the bodice (snatchedddd). Beautiful red florals. Dreamy. When Amarsana echoed what I was thinking, I got excited.

I stepped in, and it didn’t zip up.

I have what I lovingly refer to as “baby-making ribs." A slightly broader ribcage post-kids. I actually can't think about broad ribs without remembering the rumor we spread around the world about Marilyn Manson in the '90s. Wild that we managed that. I digress.

We zipped about 80% of the way up and then held our breath while the team called the designer to see if we could alter it. They often say no, given that dresses need to stay sample-sized for a multitude of reasons, but the universe was on my side this time. Cannes has some of the best tailors in the world quietly working behind the scenes, and they worked their magic to release it just enough in time for the premiere the next day.

That morning, I did a little hot girl walk since I absolutely DO NOT run in Cannes (don’t ask me why), ate some breakfast, read some of my faerie porn, and it was time to get ready. Obviously the glam is a very important part of the overall style, so I spent way too much time googling “Rosie Huntington-Whiteley makeup” and “Sienna Miller hair” until I found what I was looking for.

Last year I didn’t feel great about how I looked (again, a story for another time), so this year I just wanted to feel… pretty. Simple, soft, feminine. Amarsana initially suggested a more structured hair look to balance the drama of the dress, but I pushed back and told her I wanted to go full Princess of Genovia. She was definitely right from a style perspective, but she also knows that you gotta feel good to get “the shot” so she went with it. Rosy makeup, flowy hair - you get it. We picked out the jewelry (always a surreal process involving armored guards and contracts longer than my birth plan), I ate a couple of salad leaves so I didn’t bust a seam, and it was time for the dress.

I zipped it up and voila! Couldn’t breathe again! I know how anxiety snowballs if you don’t get a handle on it early, so I did my best to pull myself together in a room full of people. A couple of silent mantras, some calming, albeit shallow, breaths, and we were back on track. How tf does Kim K do it?

We took some shots (camera not tequila) then headed downstairs to leave the hotel. It’s always madness before the premieres. A billion gals in fancy dresses nervously ambling around in the lobby. Kind of like prom. Amarsana had arranged for a sprinter van so Toni could lie flat in her stunning silk archival, and I could fit the 8000 yards of fabric inside.

We thought the premiere started at 5:30 but it actually started at 6:30 (rookie error), so we sat in traffic for about a decade. I was doing my best to breathe, and Toni was lying flat as a pancake trying not to wrinkle her silk - an impossible feat. Eventually she just got out and stood next to the car with the door open, and I’m a sheep so I joined her. Two women in gowns, standing roadside in Cannes, just trying to keep our dresses from creasing. As you do.

Eventually, we made it to the carpet only mildly sweaty. It was busy but not too chaotic. I took my time. I reminded myself that this isn’t life or death. It’s just a red carpet. Just some pictures. Those security guards aren’t going to take you to jail. It’s not even your premiere! Literally nobody is thinking about you! It took the pressure off. And you know what? I felt good. I felt like I did the dress justice. I enjoyed myself. And when you reach the top of those Cannes stairs, there’s a real sense of relief. You just hope the shots turned out well, that the designers are happy, and that your team is happy. And then you get to sit down, watch a movie, and have a Campari spritz. Delightful.

And that’s the story behind the Carolina Herrera dress. Let me know if you’re into this type of stuff and I’ll share more. Maybe we can revisit some of the tragically styled red carpet looks I put together myself in the early 2010s. No money for a stylist, but somehow still managed to afford a weekly spray tan. And a wig. Priorities.

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Credits
Styling: Amarsana Gendunova
Dress: Carolina Herrera
Jewelry: Mari
Shoes: Aquazzura
Makeup: Alessandra Nuovavia
Hair: Eduardo Bravo
Photographer: @yaninaphoto

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If you want to read more of my ramblings:

Aperol spritz tastes like medicine

Where I'm at with the white t-shirt search

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