"Vulgar is better than boring, darling."

Six of the truest words ever spoken.

Also the line that, for me, defined "Factory Girl."

It would be outside the scope of this blog to write a review, so I won't, but I would like to at least let you know that despite what you'll read pretty much everywhere else, this movie is worth your $10.75.

And not just to see the clothes, which, by the way, were beyond even my and L's wildest vintage dreams.

Outrageously loud fur coats, four-tier, to-the-shoulder chandelier earrings, false eyelashes out to here (my arm is fully extended) -- as stunning as the costumes, accessories and makeup were, they were just eye-candy props in support of Sienna's performance and an alluring story.

Edie's life in Manhattan was all about the superficial. She was smart, talented and witty but squandered all of her gifts to spend the entirety of her early-to-mid 20s being little more than a pretty, perfectly made-up face. She never worked on herself, never achieved anything, and it wasn't until she met her first love - Bob Dylan, played brilliantly by Hayden Christensen - that she realized how empty and unfilled her heart and mind had been. But by then, it was too late -- she was an addict and completely dependent on Andy.

In short, she was trapped. Powerless.

I thought I wanted to be a full-time muse. It sounded liberating, it sounded glamorous, both of which I'm sure it is - for a while - but it's not a life for me. I need more. I need deadlines, I need my own income, and I need the satisfaction that the backless gold mini I'm wearing out to Sushi Bako in the East Village was paid for in full with my own money.

But I do agree with Edie on one important issue: we should always be the woman who orders her own food off of the menu. We should all have our own voices.