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Ultimately, Intimations feels less like a precise attempt to document the COVID-19 era than a more abstract meditation on time: who is given it, who has it taken from them, and what its sudden presence or absence can lead to. "Time is how you spend your love," Smith wrote in her 2005 novel On Beauty—quoting a poem by her own husband, Nick Laird—and Intimations functions impressively as a document of the mixed blessing of time, as well as a searing excoriation of a society that has always apportioned it unevenly. When I first meet Chiswell, she’s sitting on a balcony, directly beneath the Baby Yoda I Don’t Care What Day It Is It’s Early I’m Grumpy I Want Pepsi Shirt of a wide archway. The wind is blowing, her hair is almost white, and she’s wearing a formfitting, white, sleeveless wiggle dress and Bobbi Brown’s Parisian Red lipstick (“I also put Charlotte Tilbury’s [So] Marilyn just at the sides,” she says). Her hair is coiffed into a halo and softly curled. Since the wind is blowing, it adds to the cinematic effect but creates some angry background noise on Zoom. Just behind her, I can see a gray millennial-does-midcentury-modern couch. Chiswell speaks with a gentle, high-pitched Scottish accent and has impeccable posture. She’s been dressing in vintage and reproduction vintage clothing (clothes made recently from vintage patterns) for almost three years. Her husband, Maverick McNeilly, does too. He’s a music producer, and she’s a full-time content creator, with an Instagram and YouTube channel in addition to TikTok. They live in the Spanish-style house in Burbank, California, where Monroe lived with DiMaggio, which Chiswell thinks was built around 1939 and is haunted by a mostly friendly ghost, possibly Monroe’s. “Since being in this house, my hair has gotten a lot better. I know that’s really bizarre,” Chiswell says.

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