Glossed Over

Lucky Admits Defeat, Lets Readers Write the Captions

We’re concerned about the mental welfare of the staff of Lucky, and not just because of that strange belt they stuck on poor Rachel Bilson on the March cover. No, apparently the entire masthead is suffering from a rare but serious illness known as “caption dementia,” which is not quite the same as thinking the editors are demented after reading their captions. (Besides, for us the sensation is usually more akin to rage.)

Kim France has the details in the “Editor’s Letter.”

It is always unusually fun for us to put together our March issue, one of the most fashion-packed of the year. But it is also our unique torture because loads of fashion means loads of text!

“Loads of text,” relatively speaking, of course. This issue does have more words than the Anthropologie catalog!

And for those of us involved in the writing and editing of this text, that leads to something known to us as caption dementia, and—while it has not yet appeared in any of the diagnostic manuals—the condition is very, very real indeed.

Oh, we’re convinced.

It sets in after one has struggled with a new way to describe that 16th peep-toe slingback in the shoe guide without repeating any other adjectives already in the shoe guide or employing any of the words I’ve banned (“yummy” or “delicious” for anything that’s not food, for example).

But “sturdying” (page 200) is okay as a descriptor.

She goes on to chronicle how dedicated the Lucky staffers are. They wake up in the middle of the night, dreaming about captions. They go out in public and practice writing captions about the women who walk by. Basically, they suffer an awful lot for their “art.”

And now they want the rest of us to suffer!

So anyway, we’ve got a challenge for you: Take a stroll in our vampy, clean-lined, retro-ish-but-smartly-updated shoes. We’re giving away a $1,000 gift certificate to Barneys New York Co-op to the soul who can bring the freshest language to four pages of our shoe guide.

Ooh! Contest-y!

Lucky’s website has the complete details. There’s also a full list of the words banned from the magazine, most of which we actually agree with. Perhaps we lack imagination, but we can’t imagine using “kooky”  to describe a pair of shoes that anyone would want to buy— and what is the point of Lucky if not to entice women to spend? Here’s the list:

adorable

bling

fashionista

fave

fierce

flair

funky

groovy

indulgence

kooky

run, don't walk

shopaholic

the final word in

whimsical

food references used to describe a nonfood item (as in "a delicious shade of pink")

Entrants must fill in captions on four pages of the shoe guide, and the deadline for submissions is March 3. We’re already dreaming about adding -y  to nouns and -ish to adjectives!

Glossed Over Book Club: Jean Godfrey-June's Free Gift with Purchase, The Merciful End

So, this Jean Godfrey-June book ?  It goes on for an awful long time about lunches.  Sometimes companies serve lavish midday meals at fancy restaurants in order to garner good press!  Real shocker there.  And there are about forty-seven explanations of why she hates having her picture taken.  And then there are a billion pages—approximately—describing various levels of intrigue she faced during her tenure at Elle, which might have been interesting, except that every player is saddled with a cumbersome code name like “Above the Fray.”  The French execs at the magazine try to use European photo shoots in the American edition, and Above the Fray tussles with Eminence Grise and the Playboy and the Fashionista, and, well, there’s a reason we don’t watch daytime soap operas.

We can barely get through the one page she pens in Lucky, so it was clearly expecting too much that we’d be entertained all the way through a 271-page book that consists entirely of poorly organized personal anecdotes and impossible-to-execute beauty tips.  (We tried that concealer stripe, by the way.  No dice.)

All we really wanted out of this book was dirt about Lucky and/or Kim France. And now that we've read every single page, some of them twice because they were so incomprehensible, we’ve compiled a list, based mostly on the book’s final chapter, of the details we gleaned.  We hope that these small morsels of information will be enough to prevent all of you from undertaking the onerous task of reading Free Gift with Purchase.

1. Jean’s office at the magazine is “private-but-not-exactly-private.”  We don’t know what that means either!  Apparently, Jean is so confident in her descriptive abilities that she doesn’t feel the need to expound on this.

2. Speaking of nebulous descriptions:

If Kim uses the word perfect to describe someone, it’s not a good sign.  “She’s overperfect!” Kim once said of an impeccable, extremely fashiony [agh!] staff member, who, incidentally, ejected herself early on.  (There are plenty of superhot gals at Lucky, don’t get me wrong, by perfect I mean that smug, overly groomed, tucked-and-folded-scarf thing that some pretty girls feel enhances their attractiveness.)

3. In a departure from the magazine world’s status quo, the fashion department is “not mean.”  What a ringing endorsement!

4. Kim France has banned the use of certain words in the magazine, which explains why they feel the need to make up new ones!

…we ripped through “bohemian” in the first year; “glamorous” and “amazing” are currently on the endangered list.  “Fashionista” has been banned from the start.

5. Flattery will get you everywhere at Lucky.

Kim is smart smart smart and beautiful and successful (I know, it’s kissing up to the boss, but it’s true)...

6. We believe this claim is a blatant lie:

My test for any piece of writing I’m involved with is known around the office as the “Say this aloud to your smartest friend” test.  Would the friend look at you as if you were crazy?  Don’t write it that way, then.

Really?  Really?  Either Jean doesn’t know anyone who’s very smart, or her friends have a high tolerance for insanity.

7. Finally, Jean once attempted to wear a pair of mold-encrusted shoes to party.  Which, presumably, is why she’s writing about makeup and not about fashion.

Next up in the Glossed Over book club? Falling Out of Fashion, written by Jane Pratt’s former assistant Karen Yampolsky, is the almost-true tale of the editor-in-chief of Sassy and Jane magazines.  We don’t want to give too much away, but we can tell you this much: editorial wunderkind Jill White has an absolutely stellar assistant! 

Lucky: The Magazine About Shopping, Style, and Jean Godfrey-June

You know what we miss?  The days when Kim France could be reliably counted on for a self-indulgent editor’s letter.  Let’s be clear: we think her reigned-in notes are a huge improvement.  And we hope that means she’s happier with her life now that she doesn’t feel the need to spew personal details in every issue of Lucky.  But, honestly?  She was incredibly entertaining—albeit incredibly infuriating—back then.

Fortunately, Jean Godfrey-June has stepped into the role of resident staffer who shares life details for no apparent reason, and there's the added bonus for us that Godfrey-June rarely makes any sense!  At least France’s tangents were marginally related to the topic at hand.  Godfrey-June’s pieces, on the other hand, are often so random that we wonder whether anyone even edits her copy.  What, does she phone it in directly to the printer from the back of a speeding cab?

There’s an autobiographical tidbit in the October “Editor’s Letter,” in which France asks other staffers to share personal recollections about fragrance.  The editor-in-chief doesn’t even share her own story, which is amazing, because the old Kim France never bothered to ask about other people.  But here’s Godfrey-June’s answer:

In true Northern California late-‘70s style, my mother had a bottle of Zen by Shiseido, which I think all her cool, bohemian friends also wore—they had lives, and the Zen spoke to me of having a life.  It still smells really sexy to me.

Ah, yes, having a life.  Way to aim high, young Jean!  The concept—associating a scent with certain people—is sound, so it wasn’t until we got to “The Beauty Closet” that we began to suspect she had inhaled a bit too much of the Shiseido potion in her youth. 

For starters, she writes:

What would happen if you cracked open a Magic 8-ball? is my daughter’s favorite question.  Some old stale water, perhaps a bit of food coloring, and a many-sided piece of plastic emblazoned with “yes,” “most likely,” and “reply hazy, try again” is what you’d get, is my typical answer.

Which is level-headed and reasonable and everything…it just has absolutely nothing to do with anything else in the column.  Is it really such a stretch to fill the page?  She continues with a story about taking her kids to a press conference, which at least has the potential to be charming.  The key word here is potential.

Through some rather glamorous extenuating circumstances, [her “working-mom thing”] most recently broke down in Paris…

Glamorous circumstances!  What could those be?  Maybe she’s saving the story for a column in 2008, because she never explains why she was forced to drag her children to a cosmetics-industry press conference.   

At this point, we hoped (against hope, it turned out) the kids’ involvement would at least yield some adorable anecdote.  The quote below, however, is as close as the story veers to cute.

…my exceptionally short, unaccredited-journalist sidekicks were riveted.  Even the antiaging portion, which involved charts about cellular regeneration, was popular: “I loved that whole human-body part!” reminisced my five-year-old later, his eyes shining.

Yeah, yeah, the kid’s gonna grow up to be a doctor.  So what about the Magic 8-ball?

When [the Lancome Destiny Cube] appeared, however, the peanut gallery (myself included) went crazy.  While it’s not an 8-ball—

“Not an 8-ball.”  Uh, doesn’t that render the intro totally irrelevant? Unless...hmm...the cube and the 8-ball are both made of black plastic.  And they both have stuff inside.  So they’re, like, practically the same thing! 

it wears its mystery on the outside, with chic words like “coquette” and “jalouse” stamped on its facets, interspersed with moons and stars and secret symbols—when you crack it open, you get both a darkish-bright and a sparkly-translucent lip gloss, the palest pink and the faintest green eyeshadows, both so wearable as to entice a non-eyeshadow holdout.

If we managed to follow that extraordinarily long sentence correctly (and we think we did), we learned these three things:

1. It is possible for a substance to be both “darkish” and “bright” at the same time.

2. There are, apparently, people in the world who identify as “non-eyeshadow holdouts,” or shadow wearers have a name for those who abstain.  Either way, it’s weird.

And, perhaps most importantly,

3. Even if you connect two items that have only the vaguest resemblance, tell a story that fails to be interesting, and nullify your own premise, all in the name of a pricey product, you can still have a successful career in beauty writing.  Even a truly magic 8-ball couldn’t have predicted that.

Surprise! Lucky Staff Actually Competent

We can’t believe we’re about to say this: we just read the April issue of Lucky, and we found very little to bitch about.

Yep, we’re shocked too.

Let’s start with the cover: We preferred the halcyon days (you know, 2002) when anonymous models graced Lucky’s cover, but it’s hard to argue with Parker Posey, especially when—get this—she’s not actually promoting anything.  (Except herself, apparently, but that’s good enough for us.  We loathed Superman Returns.)

So we flipped to the “Editor’s Letter,” which, for obvious reasons, is always the first thing we read.  We’re all about the schadenfreude!  But for the third consecutive month, Kim France mentions herself only in a not-too-personal, shopping-related context.

I never thought there was such a thing as a straw bag I’d seriously consider splurging on, much less carrying to work, or that a bright blue patent leather bag existed that I’d ever even consider thinking of as “me.”

We can handle that kind of revelation.  Further proof of some kind of transformation (or that someone else is actually writing these things):  she actually praises staffer Noria Morales—a far cry from her harsh treatment of Jean Godfrey-June—and leads with a thoughtful-enough discussion about whether this month’s New Orleans shopping guide is insensitive. 

Then there’s the language:  though dicey confabs like “vintagey,” “fashiony,” and “drapey” do squeak through, this issue is largely lacking the cloying language we’ve railed against.  We aren’t in love with “plant-y” or “organic-phile,” but at least we understand what they mean, which is a vast improvement over “just statement-y enough.”  We’re still puzzling over that one.

No, we haven’t completely abandoned our standards—we didn’t appreciate everything about this issue.  For instance: 

•  Was it really necessary to use “gleamy” five different times?  (See for yourself: pages 76, 129, 233, and 267, and “gleamiest” on 240.) 

•  If they’re going to feature real women so prominently (see “Real-Life Sunscreen Prescriptions,” “Real Ways to Wear Dresses,” “Four Girls, One Wrap Skirt,” “Lucky Girl”), couldn’t they find at least one who doesn’t closely approximate a professional model?  Seriously, Kim: put a size-12 woman in one of these reader-oriented features.

•  Jean Godfrey-June bores us.

•  And another story about layering?  Yawn.  Plus we’re feeling a bit of cognitive dissonance about a model wearing four layers above the waist with bare legs.  Put some tights on!   

Still, we’re nitpicking.  And even if Kim and company never top this issue, we won’t really mind.  The only thing we love more than a good issue of Lucky is a terrible one.

Ruffles Are Powerful, and Other Startling Insights from Vogue's Anna Wintour

So we’ve been avoiding the March issue of Vogue because, frankly, that cover photo of Jennifer Hudson bent over, mouth open in agony, scares the hell out of us.  But when we found the courage to flip open the magazine, we only had to make it past 150 pages of advertising to find something equally as frightening—Anna Wintour’s “Letter from the Editor.”  (Good thing we didn’t encounter “Life with André” in those pages, or we probably would have relegated this issue to use as a doorstop.  Or a bludgeon.  It’s heavy.)

Anyway, now that Kim France appears to have renewed her grasp on reality (for now, at least), it’s time to crown a new editor-in-chief whose monthly notes are completely lacking in pretty much every way possible.   

Let’s get cracking, shall we?  Unlike every other editor-in-chief on the planet, Anna’s letter requires two full pages (albeit with a healthy—and much-needed—15-page ad break in the middle).  Taking it from the top:

When we considered which face belonged on this month’s cover—this is our annual Power Issue—the name on the lips of my editors was Jennifer Hudson.  There is no more inspiring example of the power of talent and tenacity than her rise from America Idol reject to Golden Globe winner.

Right.  There is no victory more vindicating than Hudson’s, no tale of adversity more incredible.  American Idol contestants are apparently among the most down-trodden citizens of this planet.

The question of body image is a current one, and I can’t think of a more compelling and beautiful argument for the proposition that great fashion looks great on women of all sizes than the sight of Hudson in a Vera Wang dress on the red carpet.

On the red carpet, sure, but in the pages of the magazine?  Don’t hold your breath.

The model Natalia Vodianova is another woman whose charm and determination are as empowering as her beauty…

Oh, is beauty empowering?  That’s not what we’ve been told.

I’ve always believed that the great models develop the power to exert an individual influence—moral, aesthetic, commercial—on the culture.

Can someone please give us an example of a model having a “moral” influence?  Perhaps because it’s late at night, but we’re having trouble coming up with a single instance to justify Anna’s statement.  Unless Naomi Campbell hurling things at the help is somehow morally compelling.

(One thought about Ivanka: I’ve watched her since she was a teenager, and I continue to take great pleasure in seeing her develop into a woman of real substance.)

Sure, if substance is constituted by having your assistant help you cheat at Monopoly.

[Nancy Pelosi]’s stylish now, of course; but more importantly, she’s made history in becoming the first woman Speaker.

Good thing she mentioned that Speaker Pelosi’s stylish!  That’s the true accomplishment here, isn’t it?

Olivier Theyskens’s spectacular new dress for Nina Ricci, photographed by Irving Penn, is designed to resemble a bird about to take flight.  Jennifer Hudson aside, I can’t think of a more hopeful emblem of the power we celebrate this month.

This missive mentioned politicians, models, and Ivanka Trump, and a “megaruffle” dress and former reality-show contestant (yeah, yeah, we know she has an Oscar) are what represents power?  Funny, we thought power might involve something like the ability to, oh, write something meaningful to millions of women every single month, but we guess we were wrong.

Or we were right.  We bought the magazine and read every word she wrote, didn’t we?

Previously: Wintour: Believe In Yourself, Believe In Your Staff

Lucky Staffers: Experts in Style, Snapping at Co-Workers

We dared hope that Kim France’s apparently diminished sense of self-importance—however temporary—would have a positive effect on Lucky staffers, because we are convinced that anyone so egocentric in print must be downright insufferable to work for. We dared to dream that the same confused but peaceful fog that fell over us as we read the current “Editor’s Letter” would also drift over the magazine’s HQ.  The changed workplace bound to result from France’s near-miraculous transformation would eventually yield reduced stress levels, less strenuous disagreements at staff meetings, and, most importantly for us, fewer made-up words.  Sure, Kim’s personality shift might make things more boring for us—we do look forward to her self-possessed screeds, after all—but Lucky would make up for it with inventive photo shoots and innovative fashion stylings.  Right?

Well, not so much.

Instead, in a move straight out of Lord of the Flies, creative director Andrea Linett fills the role, stepping in as the magazine’s chief antagonist.  Jean Godfrey-June documents this development in “Beauty Spy,” February:

At the end of a long, harrowing business trip, several members of the Lucky staff found themselves in San Francisco for one day, sitting in a single (if lovely) hotel room staring at one another, waiting for a final meeting, feeling haggard and jet-lagged.  We examined our respective emails for the 90th time, attempted to talk over one another on our cellphones, flipped the silenced TV from CNN to Oprah and back again.  “You’re the beauty editor,” blurted Andrea, looking at me.  “Find us a spa.”

It’s not enough the poor woman is forced into doing Kim France’s makeup.  Now she’s required to keep the other staffers entertained on business trips?  We aren’t huge fans of Godfrey-June (primarily because we are bored to tears by her modus operandi  of relating a personal anecdote only tenuously linked to the beauty product at hand to explain why she has grown irrationally attached to some new exfoliant/lip balm/perfume), but this woman has the patience of a saint.  If only that could be bottled up and, oh, sprayed on Andrea Linett.

In any case, it’s clear the calming effects of Kim’s break from navelgazing didn’t reach too far down the masthead.  Still, we’re consoled knowing that if the editor-in-chief has opted to permanently retire her diva crown, someone’s ready to step up and take her place.

Lucky Shocker: Kim France's "Editor's Letter" Is Not About Kim France

When we received the February issue of Lucky today, we were ready to follow our usual procedure and make fun of Kim France’s “Editor’s Letter”—in fact, we were anticipating our habitual mocking.  But, once we ripped off the plastic covering that shrouds every Condé Nast  publication, we were completely unprepared for what we found.

In a shocking departure from the self-obsession that normally permeates her monthly missives, Kim France does not mention herself once in the February edition.  In fact, she completely refrains from using “me” or “I” at all, and she uses “we” only to indicate the entire Lucky staff.

Let’s repeat that: She doesn’t talk about herself AT ALL.  So what if the result is possibly the most dull “Editor’s Letter” in Lucky history?  In an even more astonishing move, she actually acknowledges the magazine’s readers:

What we can do is watch and learn.  And hope that you’re as interested as we are.

No whining about foot injuries.  No overly personal revelations about divorce.  No discussion of how much a co-worker’s pregnancy affects her.

We’ve been rendered almost speechless by this development.  If this is the result of a New Year’s resolution to stop talking about herself, we wish her luck.  Clearly, she’s out of practice.

The Week: Anna Wintour More Fascinating to Herself Than to Anyone Else

•    Anna Wintour is named one of Barbara Walters’ “Ten Most Fascinating People.”  Clearly, Wintour agrees with the “fascinating” verdict—she has three portraits of herself hanging in her office.

•    Brandon Holley tries too hard to stay in touch with her 20-something audience by throwing herself a 40th birthday party complete with a street fight and police presence. 

•    Feel like crashing holiday parties?  Gawker and WWD have dates and locations. 

•    Lucky’s hired a stylist.  We really were concerned about Kim France’s ability to dress herself.

•    And this week’s cautionary tale comes from former Allure staffer Molly Friedman, who, after soliciting beauty products for the magazine and then selling them on eBay, is “pretty much banned from Condé Nast for life.”  Which we think is supposed to be an even worse fate than actually having to work at Condé Nast.

Photo of Anna Wintour from the New York Post

The Week: No Further Cameron Diaz Updates Planned

• At Conde Nast’s holiday party, Anna Wintour and Cindi Leive sit at the grown-ups’ table.

• So Nicole Kidman was supposed to look like that on the cover of Vogue?

• Lucky’s losing its senior fashion editor. Now who’ll help Kim France get dressed?

• And if you’ll indulge us in some self-promotion, we have a (somewhat serious) short article, “Youth and Consequences,” about fashion mags’ treatment of aging, in the Winter 2007 issue of Bitch magazine, which goes on sale this week. Further incentive to pick it up: Bitch’s always spot-on  “Jane Petty Criticism Corner.”

What's Wrong With This Picture? Shopping Mag Editor Hates Season of Rampant Consumerism

Kim France of Lucky has now publicly denounced the holiday season, thereby devastating any remaining chance of anyone in America ever liking her.  In December’s “Editor’s Letter,” she complains:

The carolers, the decorations, the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree—the charms of all of these things are lost on me.

So, basically, Christmas is to Kim France what Kim France is to us.

On that heartwarming note, we (unlike some editors) plan to fully immerse ourselves in the Thanksgiving spirit and enjoy the holiday, and we hope you will as well.  We'll see you on Monday.

Lucky: But How Will Your Life Affect Me?

We’ve said some unpleasant things about Kim France, but we’ve never called her a liar.

Until now.

So when she [Lucky’s market director Anne Keane] came to me in April, closed the door behind herself, and blurted out, “I am with bun in oven…”

“I am with bun in oven”? “I am with bun in oven”? Oh, come on, Kim. No human being has ever uttered such an overly precious phrase.

That accusation off our chests, we can state with confidence that the rest of Kim’s “Editor’s Letter,” November, is absolutely true. How do we know? Because it’s packed with the same self-indulgent babble Kim foists upon us every month. Like this:

…I knew that we were about to witness an exceedingly well-put-together pregnancy. And indeed, Anne has let none of us down.

Oh, good, we’re so pleased that the woman whose body is going through momentous changes while she produces another human being hasn’t let Kim down by wearing comfy shoes or a baggy top. No one would want Kim to be disappointed, right? No one should sacrifice style for comfort, and certainly not while pregnant, and definitely not in front of Queen Kim!

Just as Kim counts on Anne’s fashion sense, we can rest securely in the knowledge that, no matter what Kim France encounters, she will inevitably make herself the center of the story.  She does it so well, it’s like she practices.

Oh, right.  She does.

The Un-Lucky Search for the Perfect Purse

In October’s “Editor’s Letter,” Lucky editor-in-chief Kim France laments an “It Bag” that she deemed wholly unsuitable:

I prepared to spend a fortune, then went to the store, surveyed my choices, and edited my selection down to one. But in the end I couldn’t go through with it: The bag was fabulous, but what it telegraphed about me wasn’t, in fact, me.

But instead of expressing herself through the purchase of a stylish bag, Kim instead decided to take herself very, very seriously and write excessively personal editor’s letters.  We can only hope that, this fall, Kim finds a bag she truly adores.

Kim France Requires Attention, Pajamas

In what’s becoming a tradition around here, we now present a selection from Lucky’s “Editor’s Letter,” July—ironically titled “Summer with Dignity”—wherein Kim France tells us more about herself than we ever wanted to know.  Are you sensing a pattern?

“You need a dress in which all you can feel between the fabric and your skin is air, that on nights when you can’t be bothered to change can double as a nightgown.”

There you have it: the editor-in-chief of a national magazine just admitted that she doesn’t wear any kind of undergarments.  How else could you feel nothing but air between the dress and your skin?  Normally, this wouldn’t interest us, except that the Calypso Christiane Celle dress featured as meeting these criteria is white.  As in see-through.  As in choosing to wear the gown without the proper underpinnings could make quite a statement.

(We briefly considered that Kim’s implied suggestion to wear a sheer dress without underwear was supposed to be fashion advice.  It is, after all, the ultimate way to avoid unsightly panty lines and bra bulges. But we digress. And perhaps we take things too literally.)

Then there’s the revelation that she sometimes wears her street clothes to bed. What, is she trying to save a few quarters on laundry? It’s not a big deal, really, except that it (like her divorce) never needed to be announced to the world via a page in her magazine.  If you’re the editor of a fashion magazine, don’t you need to carefully craft your image? Wouldn’t you want to follow Anna Wintour’s lead and maintain a mysterious public persona? And perhaps most importantly—to us, anyway—wouldn’t you want the world to believe you had an entire bureau full of designer sleepwear?

Or, failing all that, wouldn’t you at least want your readers to believe that you’re not frantically seeking attention by treading perilously close to TMI territory every single time you pen a few paragraphs for your magazine?

Yeah, that’s what we thought.

Lucky Chief: Nothing to Say? No Problem!

Kim France continues the tradition of her monthly “Editor’s Letter”-cum-pity-party (this month’s title: “A Girl Can Dream”) with a personal revelation: for reasons never explicated in the pages of the June issue, she just can’t tear herself away from the Lucky offices. Here, in her own words, is the sad story:

Much as I adore the warmer months, it has been ages since I have done anything to avail myself of their charms. I haven’t taken a proper summer vacation—to an actual destination—in over two years. And maybe I won’t even get to it this time around.

There are other not terribly interesting revelations, too: she has a space heater next to her desk (“and yes, I do actually have one,” she writes, as if it’s completely out of the realm of normalcy that an air-conditioned office building would be uncomfortably cold), she worries about staining a pricey purse, and she fantasizes about tossing her Blackberry into the ocean.

Sounds like pretty standard fare to us.  Instead of having the art department cut and paste her photo into wacky vacation-like situations (Look! It’s Kim in a jeans and blazer, poolside, her picture inserted with no sense of proportion at all! She’s as big as the pool! How very clever!), maybe it’s time to take a real trip. A long trip. A trip where something actually worth writing about could occur.

We would urge her to fill us in if she actually does take a vacation, but we’re quite certain she’d devote an “Editor’s Letter” to the occasion. After all, any trip—even a taxi ride to another borough—is bound to be far more interesting than what she’s writing about now.

Previously: Kim France Still Desperate for Attention; Now Which Staffer Will Take Care of Her Hair?

News: A Whole Lot of Schadenfreude

■ Sheryl Crow, fresh off the Allure cover commemorating her breakup with Lance Armstrong, will pose for the September edition of Glamour.  Hopefully, the trend of putting recently single women on magazine covers will stop here.  We’ve already heard more than enough about Jennifer Aniston’s glamourous “new life”; we aren’t exactly on the edge of our seats waiting to hear all about another jilted woman’s newfound inner strength.

■ Later this spring, Cosmopolitan (along with a number of other publications) will run an ad from the Magazine Publishers of America encouraging companies to buy advertising space in the print media.  We aren’t marketing geniuses, so we’re not sure how buying ad space in order to promote the concept of buying ad space works, exactly.   But we’re sure the MPA ad will stand out—it’s bound to be the only page in that magazine without a shirtless guy or some mention of sex. Or both.

■ Kim France feels so threatened by the success of Shop Etc. that she spread a rumor about the rival shopping title.  Apparently, at Lucky magazine, it’s perfectly acceptable to act like you’re in seventh grade.

Kim France Still Desperate for Attention

We wanted to give Lucky’s editor-in-chief a healthy amount of leeway, given March’s “Editor’s Letter” confession of physical trauma. (We know we tend to be cranky when ill or in pain.)  Despite our best intentions, we found it nearly impossible to do anything but cringe.  Judge for yourself:

It was with a great deal of self-pity that I edited this month’s rather gorgeous Shoe Guide.   I’ve been having foot trouble lately (stick with me please—I am going somewhere with this), and at the moment, unless I am wearing sneakers, clogs, or the flattest of boots, I cannot make it around the corner.

If it were interesting, Kim, you probably wouldn’t have to ask us to keep going.  Because we’re gluttons for punishment, we did keep reading, but more in the can’t-tear-our-eyes-from-impending-doom sort of way than the fascinated-by-podiatric-matters sort of way.

And, in any case, the minuscule amount of sympathy she’d managed to drum up was immediately wiped away by the next few sentences.

And while there are some lovely flat- and low-heel categories to get excited about, the rest of the pages leave me with the precise feeling I get while looking over the part of the real estate section where the homes I cannot afford—and will probably never be able to afford—are listed.

Charming, no?  We simply can’t decide what’s more off-putting:  the impression that she’s drowning in the depths of self-pity (oh, those houses she’ll never be able to afford!) or the outright bitterness about, of all things, SHOES.

If we feel this, um, conflicted about someone we don’t even know, what must her friends and colleagues think? When Kim described assembling “my panel” (yes, she really did refer to them in print as hers) to glean advice on spring fashion trends, we got something of an answer.

What I got was tough love—a bit short on the love, perhaps—but I’m trying to take it all in the spirit in which I can only hope it was intended.

And she also maintains a hearty sense of denial! 

Is Kim France thoroughly deluded, or might she actually be surrounded by people who despise her?  Based solely on her monthly missives (and our fond but apparently outmoded memories from the days of Sassy), we’re going with the latter.

Further evidence of Kim France’s inappropriate candor: All This and Health Insurance Too; How the Other Half Lives

Now Which Staffer Will Take Care of Her Hair?

Kim France shouldn’t have titled February’s missive “Shoot Me Now.”  If she’s anything like her editor’s letters indicate, a member of her staff may well take her up on the offer. 

Not that we condone violence.  We just don’t believe in tempting fate.

As usual, the page’s content was grating. Writing that she engaged in a “whisperfight”—yes, as one word—with Andrea Linett worked our nerves, but it was the first vignette she related that really sent us over the edge.  Here’s how it played out, accompanied by a headless snapshot (tempting fate again!) of Kim:

Recently, our fashion director Hope Greenberg came over to my house, dumped all the contents of my closet onto my bed...

…where she already keeps several outfits, as we learned a few months back.  Wonder if Hope had to dig through the sheets for the rest of Kim’s clothes?

I would have happily paid Hope for her efforts...

...but her duties at Lucky include providing personal services for the editor-in-chief.  Just ask Jean Godfrey-June.

I should add, however, that her goal was not entirely altruistic: She and the rest of the fashion crew are simply dog-tired of hearing me whine and drone about how I can’t get dressed for anything: not work, not parties, not to walk the poor dog.

In short, she did it to shut me up.

And we certainly can’t begrudge Hope Greenberg for wanting that. We’re just going to consider ourselves lucky (pun intended) that we’ll never be conscripted into Kim France’s service in order to keep her quiet—we can just turn the page.  

All This and Health Insurance Too

We really don’t want to keep slagging on Kim France’s monthly missives, but she makes it so easy. From October:

I waited until the very last minute for this month’s photo to be taken, so Jean Godfrey-June, our peerless beauty director, was put on code-blue makeup duty.

Which we’re sure she appreciated, since she has no other duties at the magazine than to do than the editor-in-chief’s makeup.

At first she messed up the brows and said in a panic, "I’m not a makeup artist. I’m a writer by trade!"

Exactly. Writing about makeup doesn’t necessarily qualify one to apply it. France fails to recognize this might be a problem, and Godfrey-June soldiers on. In the end, while the beauty editor is satisfied, France doesn’t even comment on the finished job. Instead, she offers this bit of what is either friendly advice or sheer bitchery:

Quit your day job and you’re dead, Jean.

Ouch.

To top it off, the photo doesn’t even show the finished makeup job, just the beauty director acting as makeup artist on call. We love Lucky (really, we do), but sometimes we think it’s probably not a very nice place to work.

How the Other Half Lives

From the August 2005 "Editor's Letter":

News is what happens to editors, we joke in publishing (is there news in Lucky? You make the call). And the exhilaration I felt rediscovering the joys of having myself to myself again after totally failing at marriage inspired this month’s Lucky Life. I’m still a strong believer in the institution. But there’s a great song Gilda Radner sang years and years ago on Saturday Night Live called “Honey (Touch Me With My Clothes On).” Nothing beats making out on the sofa with someone new, for the very first time. Like I tell the single girls in the office: Have fun while you can. Guys do it for a reason.

We hereby retract our earlier statement.  Kim France has definitely gone the Jane Pratt route.

Here’s the rub:  The “Lucky Life” feature is oh-so-wistfully titled “Gather Ye Rosebuds,” like France died and didn’t just get a divorce. The article, purportedly about the joys of being single, is a ludicrous lie.  First, there’s this dubious assertion from the divorcee herself:

“My bed never feels too big without company.  It’s always crowded with...outfits, stationery, my cellphone...”

Clearly, Kim, you’re a slob.  Also, do you think your ex-husband is reading this, or are you just hoping his friends will see it and pass it on?

Then there’s this gem:

Say a guy’s at your house.  He asks for a drink.  Your small but important bar will impress him.

So that’s the secret!  We’ve been trying to impress men with our personality, intelligence, and sense of humor.

Also, isn’t this feature supposed to be about living on your own?

You just might wait forever for a guy to buy you diamonds this cool.

Indeed.  Creative director Andrea Linett gets kudos for eschewing the odious right-hand ring.  (Is it just our friends, or is it only married women who want those anyway?)

But let’s get back to what’s wrong with this article.

In our experience, men have gone crazy for some fairly random items.

In our experience too, but not the fringed halter top, bandanna, faux ponytail, and DENIM OVERALLS (we are not making this up) featured here.  Senior associate editor Emily Hsieh apparently swears by “ratty” overalls worn with a tube top.  We are confused.  Have the girls at Go Fug Yourself heard about this?

Finally, in a bit about what to wear when you’re the only single at an event, the copyeditor took a nap:

...the loose, flowy skirt is good flowy fun.

Oh, is it flowy?  Flowy skirts sure do add flowy fun to things!  (While we’re complaining, what is “flowy” fun anyway?  And how does “good flowy fun” differ from bad?)

Confidential to K.F.:  We’re terribly sorry about your divorce.  But can you keep it out of the pages of your magazine?  We subscribe for the clothes and the shoes and the makeup, not the details of your personal life.  After all, you’re no Jane Pratt.

Shopping for Shopping Magazines

Me?  I like a nice brisk walk.  But mostly I rely on the editor-in-chief workout, a never-fail way to get my heart rate up: looking at Lucky’s weekly newsstand numbers.

Lucky, “Editor’s Letter,” July 2005

Kim France, mercifully, hasn’t yet gone the Jane Pratt route in her editor's letters, but we were so disappointed by this statement.  We read Sassy.  We remember when Kim was a young writer with an untamed mass of frizzy hair (which she still has, we suspect, although every photograph shows her with a messy ponytail).

But it seems Ms. France has turned on us, the humble reader, in this month’s missive.  After explaining why shorts have never been featured in Lucky—come on, even we weren’t paying that much attention—and giving us the rundown of Fashion Director Hope Greenberg’s workout routine, she tells us how she maintains her cardiovascular integrity.

It’s an odd statement, and we wonder to whom it’s truly directed.  Readers are more concerned with the editorial content than with the sales numbers.  No, we’re convinced this is a self-congratulatory show of strength, a display of newsstand supremacy in the battle for the shopping-magazine readership.  Take that, Shop Etc.! 

Shop (the "etc." confuses us) would do well to forgo the occasional comment about “other shopping magazines”—the genre wouldn’t exist without Lucky’s success.  And we’d wager that makes Kim France’s heart beat even faster.