𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐖, 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄

nothing fair in love and war

love and war : fleurie

...

It was late, of course it was. He was always up this late after a shoot. Maybe it was the fact that he had, had six shots of espresso in all three coffees he had drunk throughout the day or maybe it was out of sheer procrastination that he was up this late. 

Scrolling through twitter was like as security blanket, when nothing else felt good he would sit in his dark apartment and let the blue light cover his face and he would doom scroll for hours.

 He had, had a couple of press interviews the week prior so there was bound to be something about that on Tweety. One article caught his eye. It had a cheesy heading that read; "Timothee Chalamet; the man, the myth, the walking aesthetic." he scoffed but as he read the authors name it struck him as familiar.

Penelope Witts.

Timothée Chalamet: The Man, the Myth, the Walking Aesthetic

By : Penelope Witts

Spending 45 minutes with Timothée Chalamet is like trying to interview a very charming philosophy student who's late to class because he got distracted staring at clouds. He'll talk your ear off about "the nature of identity" or "the poetry of silence," and you'll nod along, all the while wondering if he's actually saying something profound or just seeing how long he can hold your attention. Spoiler: it's longer than you'd think.

Timothée Chalamet doesn't walk into a room—he drifts, like he's been carried there on a cloud of melancholy and really expensive cologne. Watching him settle into an interview chair is like watching a cat decide whether or not you're worthy of its attention: slow, deliberate, and just a touch condescending.

To be clear, Timothée is good at what he does. Great, even. The awards and the critical acclaim didn't come from nowhere. But sitting across from him, I couldn't help but feel like I was witnessing a performance even off-screen. The tousled hair, the oversized sweater, the deliberate pauses—it's all part of the package, carefully designed to make you believe he's not trying, which, ironically, takes a lot of effort.

When I asked him about the pressures of fame, he gave me a long, contemplative look, as if he was deciding whether my question deserved an answer. "I think," he finally said, "the moment you think too much about being 'famous,' you're already losing yourself." Okay, Timothée. But can you think a little bit about it? Maybe just enough to tell me what it's like to have your face on a million fan edits?

Still, there's something undeniably magnetic about him. Even when he's being frustratingly cryptic, there's this weird, genuine charm underneath it all. Like when he confessed that his mom still calls him "Timmy" or when he spent five minutes explaining why he thinks cereal tastes better at night.