your iPod in preparation for Elizabeth Gyler's (mostly) gushing US Vogue review...Behold Vogue’s annual Age issue, an edition traditionally given over to profiling stylish and/or aspirational women of all ages (“Vogue’s guide to looking amazing at every decade, on any budget, through every season”), with an emphasis on looks that girls from 17 to 70 can supposedly wear, as modelled by the usual crop of 20-something fashion models (profiles aside).
The cover features fashion icon Kate Moss looking something like a minor European royal on a drab day. The drapey dress, conservative necklace (which at first glance looks like staid pearls) and harsh eye makeup make Kate look frumpy and haggard (perhaps she was jet-lagged?). Yet the inside portraits by Mario Testino, especially the opening black and white Burberry shot and the lolly pink Dior suit (Kate for First Lady?), do her more justice – channelling 60s Bardot, or “the Niko look”, as Kate says (and referenced to perfection in the moody new Longchamp ads) as Moss has rocked so successfully before.
The cover line “from bad girl to business tycoon” lets you know that the accompanying article is sadly not going to be a merry romp through Moss’ suitcase or wardrobe (which the twittering Voguette Plum Sykes has done previously). There’s a polite sweep over Moss’ recent controversies and tabloid appearances (in her editorial, Anna Wintour charmingly says these are “captivating”), which turns into a lush and loyal profile detailing how she’s turned her much-copied personal style into “20 million quids’ worth” of profit for Topshop. Which... haven’t we heard before? It’s nothing new. Unless Moss does a Christy Turlington and drops into a Buddhist retreat, nothing about Kate Moss will surprise us — yet the fascination endures.
Wintour’s editorial is also bit of a yawn, except for two things: first, her unveiling of the word “moguelette” to describe Moss, which manages to be both incredibly superficial and condescending at the same time. And second, her spot-on observation about the fashion feature dedicated to her own editors’ personal style: “it’s perhaps the most instructive portfolio we’ve ever put together… (it’s about) looking on-trend and beyond trend and totally themselves”. And that is what makes this whole edition of Vogue so fabulous! Forget “timeless classics every woman must have that she can wear for ever and a day” — BORING! No, I want to be “on trend” yet “beyond trend” while still being clued in to my own personal style!
I flip furiously to the main features because, let’s face it, this is what we buy Vogue for — the fashion pictures. Swoon over the icy splendour of Amber Valletta channelling Hitchcock babe Kim Novak in a blood-red Thakoon suit and vertiginous Michael Kors stilettos. Is that a body in her suitcase? A getaway car? Blackmail money she’s stuffing into her Marni handbag? It’s a stagey, brilliant story.
Now turn the page and deepen your girl-crush on Gisele Bundchen, looking like an 80s glamazon, who’s all big bouncy hair and Bambi eyes in a slick silver and lilac story on mixing masculine and feminie. It proves Gisele is more than just boobs in a Victoria’s Secret bra. I just adore the big-hair glamour and jumpy poses. If I can’t look as utterly beautiful as she does in these pages, I could at least translate these looks into my wardrobe — sharply tailored man-style trousers and swishily ruffly blouses that look both sweet and powerful all at once.
Further on, flame-haired Karen Elson as Grace Coddington (complete with her famous cats) and model-with-untypable-Russian-name as Tonne Goodman are just so SPOT ON. It’s uncanny and stunning and Karen makes me want to dye my hair (apparently she has snagged the UK Vogue September cover in all her ruby glory — can’t wait).
True to the American uber-obsession with not looking your age, there are stories on plastic surgery. Frankly, I’m not interested in these, mainly out of principle — they appear so regularly in Vogue that they are becoming a bit of a bore. Plus, in a culture where plastic surgery is normalised, I wonder if there any news value left in these kinds of stories? While I want to look as good as the next woman and my increasing grey hairs have me reaching more frequently for the dye bottle, it’s Vogue’s line that that sooner or later the scalpel is your only option to avoid looking “like an Amish woman” that, honestly, as a Feminist with a capital F, pees me off!
My only other complaint about this edition: the tribute to the master of modern fashion, Yves Saint Laurent, who completely revolutionised the way we all dress today — no pictures? NO PICTURES?!
I do love this edition of Vogue. I find it hard to be too critical when I’m presented with such lush, seductive imagery. Even when the clothes (and prices) are fantastical, Vogue is a yummy distraction from blocked toilets, mortgage rate rises and mid-numbing work tasks. It’s a wondrous escape that may be filled with vacuous socialites, impossibly glamorous eco-warriors and supermodels but… I DON’T CARE!
Overall excitement factor: 10 out of 10
Feel-good factor: 8 out of 9
Eye-candy rating: 5 out of 6
Yours truly,
Girl With a Satchel
0 comments:
Post a Comment