"Iranians don’t seem to remember the Shah as he was, but as they need him to have been. They need to remember a time when everyone was drunk and in love, cruising the streets on the backs of Vespas, with Serge Gainsbourg wafting through the air and the bar not closing for hours. It’s a seductive dream and a potent antidote to the creeping malaise of life in the Islamic republic. People need to believe that there was some time better than now. Better than bootleg arak out of a water bottle with the same five people every Wednesday night. Better than constantly worrying about breaking one of the arbitrarily applied rules that govern every part of life in Iran. Better than hijab in the summer time, and the morality police, and being afraid to dance in the street. The Shah’s main appeal is that he’s the exact opposite of everything the Islamic republic represents, he’s all for rock and roll and miniskirts and stiff drinks. Mohammad Reza Pahlavi has become a repository for people’s pent-up anger and frustration, a canvas on which to paint a better version of Iran – even if it’s one that never really existed. It’s nostalgia as subversion."