Sayna Fardaraghi talks her first-ever narrative short, Glint.
The fashion film is recognizable. It is a Devil Wears Prada-type glossy industry bouquet; a Robert Altman Prêt-à-Porter-type half-love letter, half-send-up; or, if we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel, a Confessions of a Shopaholic-type ditzy romp. While these types of films are all set firmly in the fashion industry's aorta, very rarely do they have anything to do with actual clothes. Garments are afterthoughts, plot devices, a means to an end. The fashion is set dressing, indistinguishable from medicine on a hospital soap or a pair of handcuffs on a daytime procedural.
That is precisely what makes British-Persian filmmaker Sayna Fardaraghi's debut narrative short, Glint, so delicious. Here is a film that is not set in the fashion industry — instead, we are trapped in the house of a depressed teenage girl — that has more to say about clothes and how they ensnare us than many fashion films. When protagonist Helena (Kate Lindsey) is invited to a high school graduation party, her sour mother's peach slip dress begins to invade her brain. Saying more, here, would dull the film's razor-sharp horror edge. "Helena is forced to face the person she could become," Fardaraghi says, continuing, "and the world outside of her childhood home."
Below, read our conversation with the director on film fashion, Sofia Coppola, and the intimacy of borrowed clothing.
This interview contains spoilers. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Savannah Eden Bradley: As an artist who’s worked on commercial projects, how has fashion become an interlocutor for you narratively? I’d love to know if — and how — your work with brands and designers influenced this project.
Sayna Fardaraghi: I think my fashion work has always been experimental in nature and has never been bound to a particular script or rules that a traditional narrative has, like sound sync and diegetic audio dialogue. So it always allowed me to break any molds or boxes that exist in that world. And when it came to doing this, especially not knowing anything due to it being my first time — I had a completely clean and fresh perspective on how to approach it, and how "filmy" I wanted it to be. In some ways it was scary, but in other ways, I think it's given me an edge.
SEB: On a broader scale, what led you to Glint as your first-ever narrative short?
SF: I always knew that I wanted to make a film about growing up and the many pathways one can take in a lifetime — I just never knew how to tackle it. My initial ideas were so frivolous, and thinking about it now, [they were] completely false representations of my own reality at the time. The truth was, I was in a complete state of panic, absolutely petrified, the reality of graduation and adulthood was a really scary thing for me to face. It wasn't until I was sat in a beautiful field around sunset, completely entrapped in tunnel vision, sobbing to my mum about my fears that things started to click. I still remember the walk home and the color of the sky where I had that lightbulb moment. Growing up isn't easy, it's pretty fucking terrifying — we don't discuss it enough. Why not portray it in a film the way it actually is?
SEB: With that in mind, I have to ask about the dress. I thought it was so apt that you have Helena in a pajama set, and then the dress that haunts her be this pink, almost skin-colored slip. You’re seeing two discrete approaches to intimacy. What was the costume process like for this? Did you choose designer pieces or opt for vintage?
SF: Oh yes! The dress is so special, isn't it? It was actually a vintage dress I found whilst Julian [Stoller] and I were writing up the script ideas. The moment I spotted it, I was mesmerized. There's something very enchanting about that one perfect slip. Pretty much everything in this film from the props to the costumes is a vintage piece belonging to a crew member. I think that's what makes it so special and lived in — it really comes through the screen.
In terms of the dress itself, and it being a slip that she goes for, we knew we didn't want it any other way. I feel like there's something really special about that first slip you buy when you're a teen. You see something in it that those older than you don't. Like, the meaning of it changes at a certain age — for the younger eye, it's kind of chic. But to older adults, it's like, Oh... what are you wearing? and Why is it out of the house? Now that I think of it, the concept reminds me of Jenna Rink in 13 Going on 30.
SEB: Let’s talk about the intimacy of borrowed clothing, especially between women. There are clear generational differences between Helena and her mother, seen stylistically, but they begin to blur when she sneaks into her mother’s closet. How did you approach that?
SF: I wanted it to be super, super subtle. A big theme in this film is how much in her head Helena is, and, in turn, how often she's zoning out. We don't really notice ourselves changing, nor growing... we just slowly end up there. And for that specific scene, I wanted it to feel that way. She just slowly falls into this action, an almost ritualistic act of getting dressed, exploring herself and how she sees herself. Until mama comes in and ruins it.
SEB: Speaking of intimacy, those wonderful flourishes — the lived-in feeling of Helena’s teenage bedroom, the dreamy breeze through the trees — felt reminiscent of Sofia Coppola’s work. And then that Bergman-esque duplicity is there, too. What directors and films have influenced your craft and Glint in particular?
SF: So happy to hear! Persona and The Virgin Suicides were very inspirational to the film — a few other films that inspired me in the process were 3 Women, and the short films Softcore, Nimic, and Freckleface Strawberry.
Another thing that is always influencing my work is music — I truly believe sound is everything in a film to really feel it. I've been curating a playlist for this film from the moment of its inception until now.
SEB: While watching, I kept thinking about this infamous John Berger quote: “Men act and women appear.” Helena is constantly appearing, watching — the boundaries of her little world, her mother, her own body. In the Glint making-of book, we see someone, possibly Helena herself, sleeping beside her in the opening shot, but this is changed in the final film. How did the short change shape as you underwent production?
SF: I'm so glad you noticed that! I put a lot of myself in Helena, she's certainly an observer, and in turn, a bit of an overthinker on all grounds.
The film itself changed a lot. It's no lie that filmmaking can be a journey and [can] often eat you alive and chew you out. We went through a lot of financial and locational hardships, which really delayed the process — and, in turn, that changed the short itself and limited the things we aimed to explore originally. The most prominent thing was losing our location prior to our pickups, making most interior shots redundant. Soon after, we had to find a new house to re-shoot all that footage in. There's a few cuts in the film where we switch from shots of the old house we had, to the new house we got... try and spot it if you can!
SEB: This is such a huge moment for you, moving into narrative shorts. How do you think your creative process has metamorphosed since the beginning of your career? What’s next on the horizon?
SF: It's made me so much more of a planner in my process, and given me the necessary skills when it comes to narratives and directing in general. This was a high-risk training ground for me since I've never done anything of the sort before, [I was] just learning on the go when I began my career. I feel like I'm so much more of a resilient person, as well as a good communicator of what my vision is and how to bring it to life.
For now, I want to cherish and enjoy the fruits of my labor, let the little baby Glint take its footsteps into the world and see what happens! But I do want to have more fun with the experimental side of my brain... sometimes the confines of a traditional narrative can feel a bit too binding. 🌀
You can pre-order Glint on Mubi here.
Savannah Eden Bradley is a writer, fashion editor, gallerina, Gnostic scholar, reformed It Girl, and future beautiful ghost from the Carolina coast. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the fashion magazine HALOSCOPE. You can stalk her everywhere online @savbrads.