You might spot him in the 5th Avenue 50s straddling his bike, sporting a blue jacket (which is actually a Parisian street sweeper uniform), as he snaps a photo of some dazzling ensemble. But whether or not you can catch this 82-year-old in real life, see “Bill Cunningham New York,” the documentary portrait of the city’s most beloved street fashion photographer.
The doc follows Cunningham on his bike, weaving precariously helmetless in and out of midtown traffic. We see him in The New York Times office where his photos are distilled into the weekly style roundup “On The Street” and the high society event page “Evening Hours.” Interviews with New York fashion staples Anna Wintour, Patrick MacDonald, Annie Flanders, and more round out this sweet peak into Cunningham’s life. The central paradox at play is that he documents and works alongside the most glamorous people and institutions in one of the world’s fashion capitals, but he himself leads an ascetic life. He attends church every Sunday, eats few and modest meals, has about two changes of clothes, and lives in what looks like a janitor’s closet filled with file cabinets of his own negatives. We see him repair his ripped rain poncho with masking tape. He’s not so unaware as to not laugh at himself, but he’d never be wasteful for the sake of pride.
Some of the best scenes take place at the Times, where Bill and his assistant design the layout of his “On the Street” page. “Switch these two,” is the incessant phrase over the shoulder of the openly (though affably) frustrated lumberjack of a man accommodating the man’s whims click and drag after click and drag. These odd couple-y moments highlight Cunningham’s creaky methods being double-timed by a new generation of digital cameras and Photoshop. But Cunningham has been doing it his way since he got home from World War II and no one’s stopping him.
Cunningham seamlessly embodies the whimsy of a child and the wisdom of an old man. The duality allows him the moxie to embrace a single, simple passion and to do it everyday for over 60 years with monk-like devotion. To play a straight game in New York, he reflects, is like “Don Quixote fighting windmills.” And it’s true. Life can be tough here and we compromise ourselves to make ends meet or to roll with a certain crowd. But Bill knows neither greed nor opportunism. In the humblest possible way he demonstrates that it’s possible to honor your passion by keeping it the top priority, if you’re willing to improvise. If you let that be the great challenge, rather than a daily grind you fall into, life can be simple and beautiful.
