Scott Eastwood On Clint: ‘Dad Punched Me, It Was Old-School.’
There’s a punter’s chance that Scott Eastwood has frostbite. We’re on a rooftop in West London. It’s two degrees. (iPhone weather app ‘real feel’: -2oC).
Eastwood, bravely, is wearing a lightweight jacket – something James Dean would’ve rocked on a balmy summer’s night.
Fashion assistants, wearing approximately four more layers than Eastwood, are shivering. Their breath is visible. Momentary career regret is written on their faces – it’s that cold.
The moment we’ve been waiting for arrives: the clouds part and the golden hour light opens up a studio of cosmic proportions, the last nuggets of daylight dancing perfectly across Eastwood’s face. Camera goes snap. Magic is made.
Finessing a pose, Eastwood grabs a nearby iron ladder. He jerks back in shock.
“This feels like it’s been cold since the beginning of time. This has never been hot.”
Though his style is rooted in low-key Cali cool, Eastwood takes to high fashion with ease. “Looking good!” yells a jogger running by as Eastwood freezes his arse off next to an inner-city canal that backs on to the studio. “Thanks man!”
If you want to read the entire interview, please click here.