Glossed Over

A Cavalcade of Barely Tolerable Personalities in Bazaar

Is Karl Lagerfeld the most abrasive person in fashion? Not being personally acquainted with him—or Anna Wintour, for that matter—I can’t say for sure. But he certainly makes a strong push for the title in the March issue of Bazaar.

Of course, if I consider everyone who appears in this edition, Lagerfeld has some serious competition. There’s the fawning Ivana Trump story, replete with the explanation that her husband is younger than Donald’s wife. Oh, what a victory for women all over the world! (To be fair, this may be a case of the writing being far more irritating than Ivana herself. On the other hand, the erstwhile Mrs. Trump does refer to herself as a “glam-ma.”)

There’s Sarah Jessica Parker in full-on Pollyanna mode, recommending we plebeians hand-write our correspondence, save our pennies in a jar, and use the public library. To use what’s purported to be one of SJP’s favorite words, golly! And I’d been throwing my spare change in the trash!

And I’m just going to completely disqualify the spate of economy-related articles, wherein multiple writers employ tortured logic to explain why a $3000 dress is a solid investment—if you wear it twice! What an adjustment that must be for those dowagers accustomed to burning their frocks after each wearing.

Nonetheless, the title undoubtedly belongs to Karl Lagerfeld. He may be brutal, but he’s also a genius. How else could a man who wears the EXACT SAME THING in every single photograph be a fashion guru?

In “Fashion Therapy,” he plays the role of, well, therapist, tackling the queries of apparel-beleaguered Bazaar staffers. Oh, the agony! Here's a selection of his gems, some of which are startlingly spot-on:

The t-shirt can be impeccable, and the jeans, too. The body has to be impeccable as well—that helps a lot. If it’s not, buy small sizes and less food.

I guess Bazaar wasn’t bold enough to include that particular tidbit of advice in the articles about cost-conscious dressing.

Please, your question is childish. Don’t drink when you wear stilettos. I can’t advise you to get drunk at home to find out if you would be able to walk in them at a party. Plus, you aren’t on the runway. Life should not be a fashion show.

Oh, and speaking of heels:

Very high heels actually look better on tall girls, but men hate to walk around with giants who make them feel like midgets.

When I said “heels” a few lines back, I was referring to men who’d impose their own insecurities on a woman’s choice of shoes. Seriously? Men other than Tom Cruise do that?

I am very much against looks that put women under what I call “permanent sexual alarm.”

I don’t even know what this means, but “permanent sexual alarm” is admirably colorful. Then Lagerfeld says this to a woman clinging to the resurgence of 1980s-inspired fashions:

This look is not back for people who wore it when it was new. And why did you let your “flawless figure” go? Good excuse, but it explains your need to hide behind shopping trophies.

Burn!

And a final bon mot from Mr. Lagerfeld:

Better a split personality than no personality at all.

As for the types of personality on display in this issue, well, that's debatable.

W Goes Undercover to Reveal America's Oft-Maligned Elite

Maybe you’ve heard, but the United States is in the midst of a presidential race! Every 24-hour cable news network has switched to continuous coverage of the speechifying, much of which consists of finger-pointing at a nebulous category of Americans known to politicians as the “elite.” So, who are these mysterious elite? Are they an Illuminati-like organization who are the true maleficent puppeteers behind the unholy open-toed boot? Are they the tremendously wealthy people who dwell in compounds instead of houses (or, ahem, seven houses)?

No! In fact, they’re people who were interviewed for the September issue of W. Maybe the cover line “What Recession?” is tongue-in-cheek, but you wouldn’t know it from reading the articles inside. The whole issue is redolent with the kind of boorish entitlement and unfounded superiority that is, well, the magazine’s trademark, really.

Join me as we scrutinize the elite in their natural habitat!

Our tour begins with “Comme and Go.” In the article, designer Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garcons evaluates her partnership with H&M, using the time-honored technique of condescending to her potential customers.

“I think [stores like H&M] have their rightful place in the world. Not everyone necessarily needs new things all the time and creative designs.”

Right, people who shop at H&M should be stuck with a sparse wardrobe of unimaginative clothing that can only be replaced once a year. To be fair, here’s the almost-redeeming remainder of her quote:

“It’s good to have luxury restaurants and fast-food restaurants. You need both.”

Next, we meet Margaret Dickerson, whose skincare line derived from Budapest’s mud baths is profiled in “Water Works.”

…She was more amazed by how smooth and soft her skin looked and felt after a dip. She began noticing a similar afterglow on people all over town. “I don’t want to be a reductionist and say even cleaning ladies have great skin,” she says. “But everyone does.”

Well, I never! The audacity of a working-class woman looking as good as a wealthy woman!

Our next stop here in the mysterious world occupied by the elite is “Out of the Picture.” Outgoing Museum of Modern Art director Phillip de Montebello explains his philosophy.

To his mind, the very act of stepping inside a museum makes one an elitist because it represents a choice to become educated. When he was addressing a group of summer interns a few years ago, one asked what the museum was doing to combat elitism. He recalls responding: “Where are your friends? They’re hanging around outside the drugstore in your neighborhood, wherever that is. You chose in to come indoors in the summer and learn about great works of art. That makes you an elitist. You have come to better yourself. That is what elitism is. Do I have to apologize for that?”

Apologize? For bettering yourself, no. For shamelessly berating an intern who seemed to be genuinely invested in the concept of using art to reach new audiences, definitely.

Continuing with our journey through the halls of modern American elitism, there’s this charming tale from “Euro Stars”:

Meanwhile in Paris, Becca Cason Thrash threw her American Friends of the Louvre benefit at the French museum, where she reckoned there were “zillions of billions of dollars” roaming through the halls. “Please, you’re so rich,” she entreated, auctioning off luxurious vacations to such bidders as Bianca Jagger, Maryvonne Pinault and Dasha Zhukova.

Zillions of billions of dollars! Why do governmental types so hate the elite when they’re clearly the solution to America’s rising deficit? Fortunately for all of us, W decided to dedicate this issue to participating in the national dialogue. Next month: the magazine’s plan to save Social Security!

August's Vogue Made Me Feel Better About My Life (and My Underarms)

Whenever I feel a bit down, I turn to Vogue to distract me. Not because the content makes me happy—but because reading an issue always serves as a reminder that, no matter my troubles, there are millions of completely unimportant things I could worry about instead! The August issue forced me out of my funk to ponder the provenance of the term “mogulette” (page 70), whether my underarms need a surgical intervention (page 220), and what circumstances, exactly, would require Anna Wintour’s three assistants to wrangle a visa from a country under siege (page 249).

Below, I’ve listed the top five astoundingly frivolous matters that Vogue caused me to consider. This may be the first time a fashion magazine has made me feel good about my life! If I were the kind of woman who would seriously consider cosmetic surgery for my armpits, life would be so much more complex.

1. From Grace Coddington’s quote on the “Contributors” page:

“[I love] indulging in expensive clothes—cheaper ones don’t look good on an older person.”

But snobbery looks good at any age! Should I be investing more in my retirement accounts to cover the designer clothes my dotage will apparently require?

2. From the Kate Moss profile, “View from the Top,” by Plum Sykes:

The antithesis of the airbrushed celebrity, Moss, now 34, has done nothing to disguise her age: Her kohl-lined, chestnut-brown eyes have tiny creases at the edges, and her makeup-free face is as natural as ever, with two little lines across the top of her nose…The reason she won’t do Botox is that if a photographer asked her to frown in a picture and she couldn’t, she’d be “really embarrassed,” she says.

Yes, one must have a solid excuse for not wanting botulism toxin injected into one’s face. What is my justification for not immediately obliterating the tiniest signs of aging? I’m only a few years younger than Moss!

3. Sykes again, talking about Moss’ Topshop clothing line:

She shows me a slew of clothes that are extraordinarily desirable considering their price: She holds up a slightly Beatles-esque wool sweater…(around $110); there’s a charming black chiffon flapper dress that could easily wander into a cocktail party on Park Avenue ($240); most of all I want the skinny black sweater with sheer chiffon blouson sleeves ($100)…

“Considering their price”? Has Plum Sykes ever met anyone who isn’t a millionaire? (Okay, that’s something I actually wonder about.)

4. From the Chris Evert profile “A Shining Moment”:

Tennis champion Chris Evert has won eighteen Grand Slam titles. But her best is yet to come—as a bride-to-be at 53.

Now that I’m married, should I even bother with a career? Because it seems landing a man is the greatest accomplishment a woman can ever aspire to!

5. Finally, from “Joint Session” by Judith Newman:

...I was visiting [Gerald Pitman, M.D.] to see whether I was a candidate for liposuction of the knee. They’d always been pleasantly dimpled, but now, as I got older, they were undeniably pudgy. Knees are not the worst of my problems, God knows…

So there are doctors who’ll remove excess fat and skin from your knees, but is there a surgical procedure to eliminate excessive narcissism?

See! Don’t you feel better already?

Elle Redefines Street Harassment

In the August issue of Elle, the magazine’s creative director, Joe Zee, decides it’s time men had a forum to air their perspectives on women’s appearances. As one of the few guys on staff at a women’s magazine, civilians are always asking him what he thinks about their outfits.

Whenever I meet people at nonindustry social gatherings, they’re naturally inquisitive about my job and often wind up asking me, “So what do you think of what I’m wearing now?” I’m like that lone doctor trapped at a cocktail party doling out advice for nonexistent ailments.

Zee is the only man who makes a living in women’s fashion, so he’s determined to share his wisdom with the masses. The best way to do this? By accosting random pedestrians on the street! You know, the street. The place where men never offer unsolicited opinions about the way women look?

Yeah, this plan was obviously hatched by a man.

The creative director set up shop on New York’s Wall Street—which, according to him, is “man’s territory.” Of course!

Considering this feature is a fairly blatant ripoff of Glamour’s “Dos and Don’ts” (although these women are posing, and so are at least aware they were being photographed), Zee had to set himself apart somehow. His solution? Green x’s across their faces. Oh, and he’s even worse to his targets than Glamour is.

To a woman in shorts, he writes:

Working girl? You bet, if your profession is the oldest one in the world.

Here’s his take on a woman in a pink trench coat:

Elle Woods may have gotten office cred for her ensembles, but this it’s-my-first-day-at-work-in-a-funky-office Barbie look is a real clunker.

Um, didn’t he watch Legally Blonde all the way through and catch the elegant non-pink outfits Elle wore to work in that cad Callahan’s office? At least this victim can take solace in the fact that Zee referred to another woman as a

bargain-bin Carrie Bradshaw who got dressed in the dark

and compared a third to Melanie Griffith’s character in Working Girl.

Perhaps worst of all, he says this about a woman in a suit and (okay, okay) truly hideous heeled clogs:

At work, I want to take you seriously, not dance with you.

Ah, so it’s her fault you don’t take her seriously. Thanks for filling us in that wardrobe determines our worth in the workplace!

Sure, Zee is trying to be helpfu with his advice, but if I encountered a guy on the street who wanted to appraise my clothes, I’d be terrified. Next time I hear a whistle or a catcall, I might just consider myself lucky if it isn’t accompanied by a zinger about my outfit.

Bazaar Officially Out of Worthwhile People to Profile

The May issue of Bazaar includes utterly drool-worthy interviews with both Gwen Stefani and Dita Von Teese.  And by drool, we mean that wayward strand of saliva that slips out when you fall into a deep slumber.  The celeb articles are packed with mesmerizing revelations, such as two full paragraphs of discussion about Gwen’s hair—she bleaches it!  who knew?—complete with a quote from her stylist, and then Dita makes the shocking confession she never imagined dancing partially clothed at age 34 as her profession.  Really probing questioning there, Bazaar.

Still, it was “A Fashionable Life: Jacqui Getty” that got to us.  Who is she, we wondered, and why does she merit ten pages?  (Dita was allotted only four, by comparison, while Gwen garnered thirteen and the cover.)

Fortunately, Bazaar explained Getty’s worthiness:

She’s at the nexus of hipster Hollywood.  And for costume designer Jacqui Getty, it’s all about a laid-back lifestyle that blends friends and family and fashion and film.

No, really, what is she doing in this issue?

…the elegantly furnished home says a lot about Jacqui Getty, a contributor to this magazine. [emphasis ours]

Ah!  Like it’s not bad enough that we’re fed a constant diet of celebrities, the magazines are now cannibalizing their own staff and trying to convince us how attention-worthy their own employees are.  At least make it fair, Bazaar.  Instead of just cycling through the masthead, why not award this slot to the employee of the month?

Anyway, if you don’t already dislike Jacqui because she’s “at the nexus of hipster Hollywood”—which, since we live in Los Angeles, we can assure you is plenty contemptible—this description of her house should provide some fodder:

Neither a mansion filled with grand halls nor a museum filled with antiques…the home was bought for her by Francis Ford and Eleanor Coppola…

And this:

[Marrying a] Getty could have changed even the most well-grounded of girls, but Jacqui has stayed her artistic, bohemian self.

Wow!  What persistence that must have taken, remaining “artistic” while living in a house decorated with the works of Basquiat, Ruscha, and Pollock.

And the evidence of Jacqui’s bohemian spirit?  We suppose it’s the mere fact that, in the accompanying photo shoot, her husband is dressed as “fabled English sea captain Lord Nelson,” and her 20-year-old daughter is outfitted as a “naughty kitten,” a look apparently best achieved by wearing nothing but fishnets below the waist.  Seriously.

Ever dutiful, Bazaar doesn’t neglect that most tired of clichés about Jacqui’s tremendous personal style.

For a couture shopping spree in Paris prior to her wedding, Jacqui showed up at Chanel in a grungeworthy down jacket and sneakers…

Because not only are grungy coats incredibly stylish, they’re appropriate for all occasions.  We’re learning so much from her already!

And lest you think she’s merely a fashion vanguard, the article stresses that Jacqui is dedicated to her craft.

“…I have a work ethic,” she says, noting her 5:00 a.m. call time tomorrow morning for the latest Wes Anderson film, The Darjeeling Limited, where she has spent much of her time recently outfitting Owen Wilson in the bathroom of a tiny Staten Island restaurant.

As if the time your employer requires you to appear has anything to do with your devotion to the task.  (We can say this with certainty, as we begrudgingly arrived at one job at 7:30 a.m. every day for 18 months.)  And spending vast amounts of time tucked in a small space with a somewhat attractive movie star? Surely that requires Herculean commitment to the job!

Even aside from having to, you know, work for a living, it’s tough being a Getty.  See, she can’t just socialize with anyone.  Rather, Jacqui maintains impossibly high standards for her associates.

“I just love people who are creative and interesting,” explains Jacqui of her unscripted social life.

Which is noteworthy, since most of us prefer to pal around with people who are unimaginative and dull.

Further complicating Jacqui’s existence is that she’s deeply intellectual.

“I’m like, Hey, let’s go have fun! And [my husband]’s like, By the way, the science theory on this is…”

But let’s not forget she’s also unbelievably generous.  The proof is this anecdote from close personal friend Demi Moore (who, we’re guessing, satisfies the rubric for “creative and interesting”):

The two women often shop together and inevitably end up spotting—and buying—the same things.  “Neither of us cares if we have the same jacket,” says Moore.

What a giving soul!  And to think some people have a totally skewed sense of perspective about such matters.

After such a fawning look at Jacqui, we eagerly await next month’s profile of a different  staffer.  Take your best shot, Bazaar—we refuse to believe there’s anyone on the payroll even less deserving of ten pages.

The Week: Anne Slowey Still Hasn't Eaten a Thing

•  If you’€™ve been lamenting that In Style is too heavy to carry around, fret not!  Now, in a move every other magazine will soon follow, style content is available on your cell phone.

•  Debate continues over the veracity and/or sanity of Anne Slowey’s self-reported Fashion Week diet.

•  Jane wants you to take your top off.  No, seriously.

•  Speaking of topless women and Jane, this is pretty much all you need to read from the Drew Barrymore interview.

•  And after receiving yet another hilariously awful email from Bazaar’€™s subscriber customer service, we found a phone number (which, naturally, was on the website all along).  We’ll have a full report on our call next week.

Elle's Anne Slowey: Starvation and Style Go Hand-in-Skeletal-Hand

Finally, an explanation for Elle’s Anne Slowey.  The flighty fashionista, whom we’ve long accused of simple idiocy, actually has a genuine excuse for her bizarre advice and rambling tangents.

See, just like any good fashion victim, she doesn’t eat.  What, you think you could write any better on a diet composed almost entirely solely of skim lattes and nutrition supplements?  Besides, everyone who’s anyone knows that how you look is more important than anything else, and at this rate, Anne must be approaching skeletal.  Chic!

Check out the food diary she kept for New York magazine’s coverage of Fashion Week.  Here’s her self-reported intake for one day (though you might want to merely skim her list of vitamins—it’s lengthy):

7:30 A.M. Home

Two 1,000-mg. Emergen-C with seven mineral ascorbates and 32 mineral complexes, one ounce of Super KMH, Mona Vie (berry extract), aloe juice, chlorophyll, two Nature’s Way Fenu-Thyme, one advance natural FloroMax, three Wellness Formula tablets, twenty drops Super Lysine Plus, two Theraveda Usha daytime stress formula tablets.

10:30 Sant Ambroeus

Milanese eggs and iced skim latte.

2:00 P.M. Patrik Ervell

Bottle of water and glass of white wine.

3:00 Waiting for the United Bamboo Show

Water.

4:00 Waiting for the Diane Von Furstenberg Show

Water.

5:00 Waiting for the Luella Bartley Show

Water.

6:00 Waiting for the Phillip Lim Show

Water.

7:00 Waiting for the Tuleh Show

Water.

8:30 At a Friend’s London Terrace Apartment Watching TV

Two glasses of red wine, Camembert and crackers, three olives during Prince’s Super Bowl halftime performance.

11:30 Home

Repeat Fenu-Thyme, Wellness Formula tablets, and add Theraveda Nisha nighttime stress formula.

So it’s totally understandable that she dispenses terrible advice, considering her brain must be more or less pickled by her alcohol intake that appears unmitigated by anything so exotic as actual food.  Maybe she believes that swallowing her own meager weight in vitamins every morning is nourishment enough.  Or maybe she’s gearing up to claim a spot of her own on the runway—amazingly, model Denise Mullins actually ‘fesses up to eating more than Slowey does, and everyone knows models don’t do anything so base as consuming food.  Watch your back, Denise!  If this fashion reporting thing doesn’t work out for Slowey (and, at the very least, it sure isn’t working for us), she may use her bony claws in an attempt to claim your spot on the runway.

[via Gothamist]

W Widens the Gap Between Fashion People and the Rest of Us

This isn’t exactly a groundbreaking revelation, but we’re convinced that fashion people are truly a different breed of human.  They exist on an entirely discrete level—where it’s okay to be on a timetable that adheres only vaguely to the actual constraints of hours and minutes (really—have you ever been to a fashion show that’s commenced within 30 minutes of its stated start time?), a place where no one cares whether your clothes are weather-appropriate as long as you’re fashionable. 

So it shouldn’t have been surprising when, in the course of reading the February issue of W, we realized once again how utterly off-putting and out of touch these stylemakers can be.  Or, in the case of Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana and their “Dolce Vita,” how stiflingly dull and non-erotic their idea of “sexy tableaux” can be.  Like this:

Is this supposed to make us feel something other than derision?  Should we be stunned that a man—a nearly naked man, at that—is wearing heels?  Shock!  Confusion!  Overwhelming urge to turn the page!

At first, we thought perhaps we just didn’t understand the pictorial.  See, we aren’t truly fashion people—we like to arrive places on time and cover our toes when it rains.  But, the more we study this alleged portrayal of “divine decadence,” the more bored we get, and the more we’re convinced that this is a case of attempting to shock us into believing there’s substance.  Sorry, guys.  We never realized that the display of so much human flesh could only be exceptional in its sheer creepiness and dreariness.

Speaking of creepy, this issue of W also includes “The Stylist,” an interview with Hollywood fashionista du jour Rachel Zoe.  Sure, she’s everywhere—it’s like she’s cloned herself—but did you realize that she’s actually shunning the spotlight?  No, really, just ask her.

...and [she] claims to be uncomfortable with the fact that she’s become something of a celebrity herself.

“I’m scared that it’s going to be gone,” Zoe says.  “…I just don’t ever want to lose sight of why I’m here.”

Is “here” planet Earth or L.A.?  And why is she here, exactly, wherever “here” may be?  Client Maria Sharapova weighs in:

“…I would never have spent three grand on an Yves Saint Laurent cashmere sweater, but she taught me that key pieces are really important.  And I’m wearing that sweater right now.”

A noble mission, to be sure, spreading the word about cashmere sweaters.  Wouldn’t want those designer goods to languish in obscurity! 

And what about those nasty rumors regarding illicit substances and her clients’ shared trait of sudden thinness?

“I’m so drug clueless…I take Tylenol once in a while, and that’s about it…And I would never in a billion years tell someone to lose weight.  Ever.”

Oh, so it’s just a coincidence that Zoe’s clients (including Lindsay Lohan, Keira Knightley, and former Zoe-phile Nicole Richie) have dropped serious pounds practically overnight.  Probably they’re just following her example by racing around vintage clothing shops (as she does in this piece), popping the occasional OTC painkiller, and, like Zoe, eating “tons of fish and vegetables.”  She should write a book with a surefire diet plan like that.

And if she truly wants to leave the spotlight to her movie star clients, she could, oh, not give interviews and pose for photos in magazines.  But that would make sense to us non-fashion people and, for better or for worse, Rachel Zoe is not one of us.

Vogue's Clash of the Fashion Cultures

From Vogue’s “Trading Places,” January:

Can preppy Vogue writer Florence Kane and ultrafeminine girl-about-town Tinsley Mortimer switch styles?

Ooh, the suspense!  We’re guessing that the switch will be tough on everyone, but by the end, both women will have learned a valuable lesson about personal style.  Maybe Florence really can wear pink and bows!

The participants in this daring social experiment couldn’t be more different.  Florence describes herself as

a Brooklynite Vogue writer who shops mostly downtown

by which we think she’s trying to come off as edgy even though she spends her weekends in the Catskills.

Tinsley, meanwhile, is a

New York social girl and purse designer

and she spends her weekends in the Hamptons.  Fasten your seatbelts, everyone—sounds like we’re headed for a full-bore clash of cultures here!

Then the real excitement unfolds:  They declare their common love for Miu Miu.  Tinsley balks at a cardigan.  Florence feels uncomfortable in a form-fitting gown.  Thrilling!  Reading about other people shopping is always an enlightening and helpful experience.

Just when we’re beginning to despair that these two will never find any common ground, an uproarious experience at Paul Smith brings the two brave shoppers together.  We’ll let Florence describe it for you:

The pencil skirt, blouse, and sweater are too long for her, and the ankle boots, which look enormous on her tiny frame, have us in hysterics.

Ha!  That’s...well...actually, we don’t quite see the humor in the situation.

A photo caption tries to explain:

A low boot looks laughably large on Tinsley’s doll-like frame.

Looks pretty normal to us, but we guess you had to be there.  We’re sure it was hilarious.  Could these two fashion pioneers be wrong about anything?

Fortunately, after an exhausting day in the trenches of Soho’s trendiest emporiums, our intrepid explorers arrive at a happy ending: the women realize the value of sartorial compromise.  Still, one crucial question remains unanswered:

Could Tinsley actually take to wearing flats?

As it turns out, the answer is…it depends.  How could they leave such a question without a solid answer?  Clearly, groundbreaking fashion anthropologists like Florence and Tinsley require more than a mere three pages in Vogue to bring us definitive insight into the fashion stylings of women from such disparate backgrounds.  We sincerely hope Vogue continues to sponsor this important research.

Personality Not Necessary for Holiday Fun, Says Allure

From Allure’s “The Bewitching Hour,” December, comes some helpful advice for holiday parties:

“I put on a really fun disco-y Dolce & Gabbana dress.  It makes me feel as if I’m someone else,” [“nightlife empress” and Bungalow 8 owner Amy] Sacco says.

Because, you know, being yourself simply isn’t enough. 

But in the unlikely event your outfit isn’t quite capable of transforming you into someone more fascinating, there’s still hope.  Sacco continues:

“And don’t forget the jewelry.  Add a little sparkle, especially if you don’t feel as of you have a sparkling personality that evening.”

Oh, okay.  Good to know that if our personality (and wardrobe) is lacking, we can still make up for it with our accessories.  Cheers!