People always come up to me and say, Oh, you're Chloe Se-VIG-ny, right? Sevigny. Number seven, letter e.
I'm kind of intimidated by the big screen - I often keep my performances much smaller and much more natural and subtle.
There's this index that tallies up how much your movies have made, and if they haven't grossed a certain amount, then you're not bankable. I know I'm not Will Smith but, you know, my ranking's pretty low. The only studio picture I've done is Zodiac, and that didn't perform that well.
I want a guy who is masculine, good with his hands, and able to build stuff and who has survival skills. Facial hair is a big turn-on... I like a stronger, more physically imposing man - like a lumberjack.
I wish I looked more like my mother, but I think I look like my father. I wish I had one of those naturally beautiful faces. Or a more quirky face. I'm right down the middle: not interesting enough, not pretty enough.
If I'm feeling down in the dumps, or like I need a pop of colour, I'll put on MAC's Lipstick in Lady Danger. I discovered red lipstick when I did the Oscar season: Chanel sent me one and I realised how classic and glamorous it can be.
From when I was a really small girl on, I would pick every fabric, every color on the walls, and I was always redecorating. Like once every couple of months I would redecorate my room. I had a full wall that was all collage - the entire wall - when I was in junior high. And then it would kind of morph with me as I was growing.
I feel terrible about corporate greed. Growing up in a household that was a little more humble and didn't put so much emphasis on money and material goods, I think I have a pretty good head on my shoulders.
A lot of my girlfriends like baggy oversized stuff and put on menswear already. And I also wanted something that my boyfriends - my gay and straight buddies - could wear. I wanted something for everyone.
I was more feminine. I was a girly-girl until I moved to New York. Then I got really into the androgynous look of the early-'90s club scene.
