安迪•沃霍尔的裤子（有声）

英语自学网

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        Andy's leather trousers were part of his work clobber, as surely as the smock and beret of the impressionist painter in his Montmartre rockery. Warhol was wearing them when he arrived at his studio, the factory, to begin his working day by overseeing his latest silkscreen pictures.
        He was breaking into the film business, metaphorically swapping his leather strides for a director's jodhpurs, and the afternoon found him shooting three-minute screen tests. The subjects were starlets and wannabes, but also big names like Bob Dylan, Yoko Ono, Salvador Dali. Warhol was looking for that rare charisma that comes right through the camera to the audience, but failing that, a nice set of bones in a pert rear would do. It was the same with the women.
        As night fell, Andy's groovy look gained him entree to all the best parties, where he talked the rich and famous into having their pictures painted. Moreover, few artists since Rembrandt have been so associated with the self-portrait, presumably Warhol could claim the cost of his entire ensemble against tax, not a small consideration for a man who had a vivid fear of the inland revenue service and kept receipts for everything, including, I've no doubt, his leather trousers. He probably kept the trousers, too, somewhere.
        But to shoehorn myself into Andy's-very-own cacks would be an active intimate empathy too far. Wouldn't you agree? The next best thing was to have a pair of bespoke pants run up by Andy's tailor, or rather, given that this was for a documentary on the thrifty BBC, to try an off-the-peg pair and shoot me about him for a bit.