Dietrich. No one delivers the look of I-have-absolutely-no-fucks-not-a-damn-to-give better than her. Behold: the eyebrows arched in permanent whatever; the half-lidded eyes that look you up and down and say, "Meh;" the cigarette barely balanced in her gloved hands - because she just doesn't care if it drops and burns you. She. Just. Doesn't. Care. And yet we still love her, don't we? I know I do.
