[…] Tarantino's girls unveil. In truth, these fetishistic girls unveil fetishes. They are unveilers of cars, unveilers of the phallus. Their laughter is the physical sign of the unveiling. Unveiling, we know, carries a certain dissolution of the sacred. The girls love cars, but they do not believe in cars; unlike boys, girls don't treat cars as sacred objects. They play with them. The girls play around with the objects. This is the whole secret. For women, the phallus is the same as all shiny objects: objects adorn—to say it in two words. That is to say, as with the Dodge Challenger in Death Proof, if they can spend some effort to seize it, the goal will not be simply to have it, but they seize it only to adorn themselves with it. It's the logic of the female masquerade. Above all, women love to make shiny objects swing around. This is the sense of Marilyn's song: "Diamonds are a girl's best friend." By saying that women adorn themselves with objects, I do not want to sing the doubtful refrain about the female inclination for appearance, trinkets and frills. I mean that this taste for the trinket and the frill is the most rigorous demonstration of woman's taste, not for jewelry, but for truth. Because if, with respect to objects, women think more of adorning themselves rather than possessing, it's precisely because they know the truth of semblants: that they are only a pretense. It's not up to them to deal with fakes. They aim at the final Object, the Object of objects, the key Object of the series that goes forth in its radiant dress. They know very well that objects are never more than hairpieces. Only what a pretty pendant must be to hang around the neck. They know the truth of objects, that they are always semblants; I have occasionally drawn these conclusions from the fact that women are not "naturally" made to become "collectors." Objects don't have the same importance for women as they seem to have for men, who, between cars, toolboxes, hi-fi systems and various electronic gadgets, are constantly in their thrall. Men are suckers for objects. The fetishism of the Object is a boy thing. Male superficiality is the opposite of the female masquerade: a man does not play with the semblant. A man does not make semblants. This is why I quoted Louise Bourgeois: "A man cannot lie, and this is why men are so likable." What appears, here, is that girl fetishists are at the same time murderers of fetishes, fetish killers[…]