One could make the case that most gangster-related films pre-1967 were fueled by the erotic-guns as phallic symbols, the Oedipal thing ("Top of the world, Ma!"), gun molls waiting in clingy satin for their man. But never before had sexuality, infused by the aphrodisiac of a good heist, burst off the screen, in the shape of Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty as the retro-Depression-swathed outlaw couple. The way Beatty tilted his Fedora led to a partial comeback of the haberdashery, and Dunaway's white beret, below-the-knee skirts (minis had been "it" in '67), and slinky, cleavage-revealing shirts found their way onto a horde of runways and magazine covers in the late 1960s. What girl didn't want to chew on a cigar and tote a machine gun after Faye made it look so good?-Peter Wollen, UCLA Film Archive