Glossed Over

The Headache-Producing Hermeticism of Elle's Editor's Letter

Nicole Kidman’s on the cover of November’s Elle gripping her head like she’s got a vicious migraine, and after reading this month’s “Editor’s Letter,” I know just how she feels.

Even the most hermetic of us (and if you’re reading Elle, I seriously doubt you qualify)…

Why, yes! Because I read Elle, I am far from insulated! I’m exposed to all sorts of points of view, most of which involve clothes I can’t afford, privileges I will never have access to, and lives I don’t care to lead. But whatever, my horizons are broad!

Oh, the irony. The rest of Roberta Myers’ missive explains precisely how hermetic the magazine’s viewpoint is.

But if you take away the actors and celebrities—and the film characters they play so memorably—it’s really hard to point to more than a handful of female public figures whose stories are well enough known to us that they present as archetypes to emulate.

Indeed! There must be a shortage of adulation-worthy women! That’s why the Olsen twins appear in every issue, right?

There’s Hillary Clinton, and Nancy Pelosi (quick: name one thing you know about her personal life), and Michelle Obama, and Cindy McCain, I guess. Sarah Palin??

Is Nancy Pelosi’s personal life critical to her “archetype”? Since she’s the Speaker of the House and not a reality show star, I think not.

Which is to say that the narratives about women (and sadly, for women—quick: try to name one female military figure) belong to the imagemakers and movie stars.

Because there are more prominent female movie stars than military figures, the latter aren’t worth writing about? If Elle thinks its readers can’t name women in the service (and I’d bet most of us can), isn’t that even more reason to cover the many, many women who’ve enlisted in the Armed Forces?

Because let’s face it, power in Hollywood reaches beyond its fabled zip codes into politics, the economy, culture both high and low—to hear some foreign policy wonks tell it, even national security!—in short, every aspect of our lives today.

If the entertainment industry affects our national security, explain to me again why we’re only reading about actresses and not those women in the military who are, by Elle’s own postulation, indisputably affected by Nicole Kidman’s next film?

Never mind! Let’s talk about men!

…Anderson Cooper, who is, sorry to objectify, just the most beautiful human on television.

Um, apologizing for objectifying him is pretty much contradicted by the very act of printing that objectification in a national magazine, but go on.

I am sure he loathes any description of himself that starts with his looks as opposed to his hard-won journalistic chops, but perhaps he gets some of the same kind of pleasure that constantly underestimated, beautiful women receive when they succeed at something other than just being good-looking.

Perhaps. Or, you know, perhaps he doesn’t find it pleasurable when people are surprised to discover that he’s competent.

Mercifully, the letter ends shortly thereafter—with, what do you know, an Olsen mention. After tackling that page, I completely understand why Nicole’s head might be throbbing. Good news, though: Botox alleviates headaches!

On second thought, Nicole? Forget I mentioned it.

Mariska Hargitay's Skewed Self Assessment

Is Mariska Hargitay’s appraisal of her body self-deprecation, the misuse of a term commonly used to mean “plus-sized,” or the result of working in an industry where breakfast is a cigarette and a swig of Starbucks? I don’t know, but it depresses the hell out of me.

In the midst of an otherwise resoundingly sane statement about eating in moderation, she describes herself in a jaw-dropping way. From Self’s “Living the Joy,” November:

“I’m a full-figured woman.”

I can’t decide what’s sadder: the idea that the healthy-looking Hargitay is a Hollywood version of full-figured, or that actresses with sharp-as-knives shoulder blades are considered so average that, in comparison, she actually is.

Why Allure Can't Let Carrie Underwood Be Happy

If there’s one thing that women’s magazines are about—other than, you know, hawking appallingly expensive stuff no one needs—it’s self-improvement. Every month, there are breathless reports on how to drop those extra pounds, science updates on the latest research proven to kick start our sex lives. In every issue, there’s a new technique for getting noticed in the office, another suggestion for dressing to hide figure flaws. (It’s always a v-neck wrap dress. I’ve seen that particular solution so many times I’m nearly convinced the right Diane von Furstenberg frock could settle the conflict in Georgia.) The message? You’re inadequate! But, with practice and some cash, you might one day measure up!

So what are we readers supposed to make of it when an article about someone who’s generally triumphed over such magazine-mandated adversities focuses on her dissatisfaction with her life?

That’s the case of “Country Girl,” the profile of Carrie Underwood in the September issue of Allure. As spelled out in excruciating detail, Underwood’s life veers close to the ideal perpetuated in women’s mags: She’s trumped the sexism of the country music scene to launch a spectacular career; she dates a constant stream of attractive, famous men; she has the money to indulge in luxuries; and her looks (including, yes, her precise weight) are described in rapturous terms. All of which is why I was surprised to discover that the article leans much more heavily on Underwood’s worries than her successes. According to the piece, Underwood is scared. She frets that her earning power may come to a halt, that her few splurges may alienate her fans; she worries about building a lasting relationship. She spends too much on clothes and notes that all her friends are married with children.

Even though these are concerns that resonate with many of us (if not quite on par with Underwood’s distress about a $2,500 Dolce & Gabbana sweater), it seems like Underwood should be celebrating. Actually, it seems like Allure should be recognizing a woman who’s conquered the same foes it counsels the rest of us to vanquish.

That I can’t fully relate to Underwood’s problems doesn’t make them less valid, and I understand the imperative to posit famous people as, well, actual people. I’m not lobbying for celebrity hagiographies in the glossies, but an emphasis on the shortcomings of a woman notable enough to land a magazine cover in the first place, combined with the anti-aging and diet advice in every issue, further reinforces the message that the rest of us are inadequate. There’s nothing wrong with encouraging self-improvement or aspiration or even faking it with that wrap dress. But there is something wrong with a system that doesn’t celebrate those who’ve already achieved the kind of success the rest of us are striving for—especially when it’s the kind of success these same magazines claim to help us attain.

Bazaar Features Rachel Zoe as a Fake Size 8

Dear Bazaar,

Can we talk about this page from the September issue?

For years, we’ve been subjected to preternaturally thin models whose every excess ounce has been erased by a computer. Now you’ve taken Rachel Zoe and digitally added pounds to her form. You can’t have it both ways, Bazaar. Why is a size-8 figure acceptable only when it can be slimmed down to a 0 with the click of a mouse?

Some women are slender. Some women are not. There is nothing inherently wrong with that variety. If you want to foster a spirit of acceptance and demonstrate that beauty comes in all shapes, then photograph women of varying sizes (and no, Photoshopping a bigger bust on Zoe doesn’t count). If you want to send the message that no body type is adequate, well, you’ve already done it.

Love,

Glossed Over

P.S. Those shoes? Hideous.

Victoria Beckham Tackles Weighty Issues in Allure

When clothing sizes are mentioned in magazines, it’s most often in the context of ignoring them. Buy based on fit, not on what the tag says, we’re told. Your worth isn’t linked to your pants size, they say. Don’t diet for the way you look, diet for your health! It’s perfectly sound advice that makes hypocrites out of the very magazines that espouse such philosophies. The real message? Love your body, but don’t expect to see anyone who remotely resembles you in a fashion glossy!

Perhaps such looming dishonesty is why Allure discarded any hint of that approach in “Through the Looking Glass,” August, wherein writer David DeNicolo practically interrogates Victoria Beckham about her measurements. Obviously, Beckham’s fame isn’t just about her tiny waist, but the magazine puts an awful lot of emphasis on it all the same.

Here’s how it starts:

Allure: What size are you?

VB: I’m the smallest size that you can get. It depends with different designers, different stores.

Which is an admirably discreet response, so he steps up the pressure.

Allure: What do you weigh?

VB: That’s a bit personal. What’s your weight? I’m not going to ask you what your weight is!

Allure: [I tell her. Twice.]

Surprise! DeNicolo’s weight is not printed in the magazine. Presumably, if Posh had answered, her weight would have been printed. In bold. With a box around it. And with an accompanying tear-out diet plan for the rest of us.

VB: I’m not going to tell you. I don’t want everybody knowing what my weight is.

Ah, Posh isn’t cooperating. Solution? Ask a totally inappropriate question in the hopes of flummoxing her with sheer chutzpah!

Allure: How do you feel about fat people? Is there an ick factor?

Well, I guess we know where Allure stands on the matter.

Putting aside my righteous outrage about indiscriminate fat-shaming, I just don’t get this question. What is the expected response? Her choice to wear heels to Disneyland aside, Posh isn’t dumb. Like she’s going to say, “Oh, I despise them. They should be deported to a deserted island and forced to resort to cannibalism until they’ve achieved a negative BMI.”?

Instead, she offers a pretty reasonable response:

VB: That’s an awful question. People have to be healthy. Some people can’t help being thin; some people can’t help being fat. People can’t help the way they look. I don’t like it when people are mean about me, so I’m not going to be mean about anybody else.

Well! That topic of questioning exhausted—or failed—the chat moves on to less cosmic topics like David Beckham’s tattoos (she likes them! imagine!) and whether the couple ever finds time to hang out with Mr. and Mrs. Tom Cruise. (Sometimes, but it’s tough to coordinate their schedules!)

But DeNicolo hasn’t given up all hope. Discussing a 2007 photo of VB at the Vanity Fair Oscar party, he offers this delightful non sequitur:

    VB: This dress was Alaia.

    Allure: Your boobs look amazing.

Hey, you know what else is amazing? That asking an interview subject to reveal her weight, commenting on her body in a vaguely prurient way, and asking whether “fat people” have an “ick factor” is acceptable. Note to magazine editors: Maybe we could all appreciate our bodies a lot more if we could stop focusing on them for just a second.

Italian Vogue's "Black Issue" Goes Into Reprints

As 10,000 freshly printed copies of the July edition are shipped to newsstands, Italian Vogue editor Franca Sozzani talked to Reuters about the magazine’s incredibly successful “Black Issue.” This quote, in particular, struck me:

“America ... is ready for a black president, so why are we not ready for a black model?”

Aren’t we ready, though? This issue is the first in Condé Nast’s history to be reprinted to satisfy demand. Ad sales were up 30 percent for this issue, even though many of those same advertisers stuck with white models in their ads. Photographer Steven Meisel, who shot the cover story, says,

“I’ve asked my advertising clients so many times, ‘Can we use a black girl?’ They say no. Advertisers say black models don’t sell.”

Right. They don’t sell advertising, which is why these same advertisers snapped up pages in this edition. They don’t sell consumer goods, and it has nothing to do with the product or the ad concept. They don’t sell at the newsstand, but it was Gwyneth Paltrow on the cover of the year’s worst selling issue.

So where does the problem really lie? Looks like America is certainly ready for more diverse models, but are magazines?

Earlier: Is Fashion Racist? Fashion-Industry Mouthpiece Vogue Says No

W's "Honeys" Work Hard for the Money

W’s July article “Money Honeys” goes deep inside the world of hedge funds to reveal something you won’t read in the Wall Street Journal: beautiful women in Theory trousers are taking over finance! The magazine deems the topic “impossible to ignore.” Actually, what’s impossible to ignore is the way they make this supposed trend sound like a good thing.

You might think a magazine targeted at women would take a dim view of hiring decisions that frankly favor appearance over intelligence. You might even think this article would try to prove that the women in question are indeed intelligent, or at least include women who manage to succeed without “blond hair and spray tans.”

You’d be wrong!

For those who aren’t familiar with the machinations of high finance, W explains. Hedge funds operate on the same principle as strip clubs: men will gladly open their wallets to beautiful and/or accessible women.

One of the apparently few male marketing execs fills us in:

“[Investors] want a hot chick with a nice ass and nice boobs who is going to come in and sell the fund to them. I have a friend in the industry who is drop-dead gorgeous, and even she knows that’s the only reason she has her job.”

And women are catty?

“You meet these bimbos and they say, ‘Oh, I work at a hedge fund,’ and you think, What?!?” says one head of an investment bank who pals around with high net worth investors. “And then you realize, Oh, this is, like, the PR girl…”

Do women resent the implication that their success is due to their pulchritude? According to this article, not at all!

“The looks definitely help,” one blond, curvy female marketing director admits matter-of-factly.

All of the men in this piece are identified by their job titles, not their looks, by the way.

Still, W doesn’t want us readers to underestimate these women. In fact, the article describes the incredible lengths they go to in order to succeed:

“I had to start watching more television, like American Idol, so I could find some common ground with [investors’ wives].”

But being a woman in marketing isn’t solely about objectification! There are awesome benefits! First, from a male marketer:

“I have never, ever seen an ugly person in this role.”

Do you work in hedge fund marketing? Congratulations!  You’re conventionally attractive!

Second, even though they’re basically required to go on dates with clients, marketing executives are paid way better than escorts. Directors earn up to $2 million, while lower-level employees pull down between $200,000 and $500,000.

Not like they stay in the workforce for long, anyway. The third perk:

“It’s an easy access point to a rich husband,” he says. “These girls don’t talk to anyone worth less than $50 million.”

Of course, the acquisition of a wealthy man is the most important transaction these women will ever broker! Maddeningly, the article ends with that quote.

So let me get this straight: Male-dominated companies hire women (from modeling agencies, even) to charm clients out of cash, and then men slam these women in print for trading on their looks? Nice! The article mentions in passing that women in hedge funds struggle to be perceived as professionals. “Money Honeys” does them no favors, but even so, it’s the men in this scenario whose behavior I really have trouble taking seriously.

Is Fashion Racist? Fashion-Industry Mouthpiece Vogue Says No

In the July issue, Vogue asks “Is Fashion Racist?” You don’t even have to read the article to know what they conclude. I’d give them credit for tackling this topic at all—especially considering Vogue's problematic recent covers featuring Jennifer Hudson and LeBron James—except that the whole thing reads less like a serious examination of the subject and more like a bland paean to the mysterious ways of fashion. See, the industry isn’t actually racist! It’s just doing what it’s always done! Oh, isn’t fashion wonderful?

The article centers entirely on the dearth of diversity among models, and includes an intrusively long diversion about the decline of the supermodel. While the popularity dip of one-name wonders like Naomi and Cindy is certainly linked to a scarcity of color on the runway, it doesn’t fully explain the current state of affairs.

And why not broaden the discussion beyond the rarefied halls of the modeling world? How many minorities work in apparel design? How many in retail? For that matter, how many minority viewpoints are represented at Vogue? Woefully devoid of any context, the article makes no attempt to explain whether the situation on the runways is endemic or anomalous.

But that’s all moot, because, according to Vogue, there isn’t a problem! On to the text of the article:

This magazine exists to inspire women. How do fashion editors get inspired by watching the same procession of anonymous, blandly pretty, very young, very skinny, washed-out blondes with their hair scraped back in show after show?

Why is author Vicki Woods asking the reader and not, oh, a fashion editor? The only one quoted in this article is André Leon Talley, and he’s relegated to discussing runway shows. Also, I refuse to believe that Vogue  “exists to inspire,” unless it’s designed to inspire us to anger.

Speaking of very young and very skinny, the article then devotes significant inches to the personal stories of models Chanel Iman, Jourdan Dunn, and Arlenis Sosa. Which only proves that there are a whopping three young women who aren’t white who get modeling work (though they couldn’t even bother to get a translator for Sosa). 

In any case, no one in fashion is responsible for anything. Model booker Neil Hamil reports that he hears “Well, we already have our black girl” when he calls about castings. Photographer Mario Testino says, “People come in groups; we react to the supply.”

As for designers:

Maybe some designers just won’t use black girls? Because (in the overheard words of a Paris designer I can’t name) they are “too strong for the clothes”?

Wait! Did you catch that? This article just quoted (albeit anonymously) someone in fashion being truly insensitive to race. What was the response to this whispered comment? Why won’t Vogue name the designer? Do other designers agree with this anonymous assessment? Who knows? The article moves on to a fawning description of Alber Elbaz of Lanvin, who says he was “trained” to use black models. Charming.

Time for more vague platitudes about the nature of clothes and beauty! Casting director Russell Marsh, who works for Prada, trots out this justification:

“It’s the clothes that take much more priority than the girl...”

If the models are faceless and unimportant, why does their skin color matter at all? Let’s ask designer Marc Jacobs, who is apparently a champion of diversity since his last show had two non-white models. He falls prey to the supermodel straw man, and then says this:

But fashion is a cycle, he reminds me. “Things move on.”

Why should any race ever be in or out of style? Skin color isn't the same as skirt length.

Wait, entire paragraphs have passed without mentioning the heyday of supermodels. Let’s get back to that!

There are encouraging signs that models, rather than celebrities, may be slipping back into their former role as inspirers of women.

There’s that “inspiration” thing again! So, wasn’t this whole article inspired by a disproportionately small number of successful black models? A surge in the popularity of models, while beneficial to models overall, is not a solution to race-based disparity. 

Casting director James Scully:

Scully points out that the last decade has been bad for models. “And when it’s tough for models, it’s really tough for black models.”

What is his point, exactly? If white people are struggling, that somehow makes it okay for everyone else to struggle even more?

Ultimately, the article never admits to much of a problem—and therefore proffers no solutions except that fashion is cyclical, and proponents of diversity should hang around until non-white women are trendy again. How long might that take? Just wait and see!

Vogue doesn’t need to sit back and merely reflect fashion in its current state. Anna Wintour holds tremendous sway over the industry. But Vogue turned what could have been a groundbreaking cry for change into an argument for the status quo, since any indictment of the fashion world would be an indictment of the magazine, too. (And their one-page photo collage, above, is not a strong defense.) If fashion is racist, is Vogue complicit in that racism?

Miley Cyrus May Never Buy Another Issue of InStyle

The Hannah Montana star was quoted in the June InStyle article “House Music”:

“The main pressure is just being yourself,” she says. “I told my mom, ‘I’m not buying another magazine until I can get past this thought of looking like the girl on the cover.’ She said, ‘Miley, you are that girl,’ and I was like, ‘I know, but I don’t feel like that every day.’ You can’t always feel perfect.”

I think it’s safe to say this will be the only time I even vaguely commiserate with Miley Cyrus. What makes any of us feel like we have to look like the Photoshopped cover of a glossy? Is it self-loathing, insecurity, a desperate desire to feel good about ourselves? For me, it was all of the above. In my late teens and early twenties, I sunk tons of energy and thousands of dollars into a futile effort to look like the women portrayed in magazines. I spent an hour every morning blowdrying my hair straight and then curling it. I ate celery sticks and sugar-free Jello for lunch. I shopped for clothes and cosmetics twice a week.

I’m not that woman anymore, but recusing myself from insane standards doesn’t make my frustration with them any less acute.

So I’m annoyed by Miley’s statement. Is it duplicitous to participate in photo shoots and then complain about the unreality of it all? (A selection of scans from the InStyle shoot is after the jump.) Or are performers unfairly shoved into a corner where they have to talk about clothes and makeup to promote themselves?

Fashion-mag photo spreads are part of the Faustian bargain of celebrity. But if a famous 15-year-old thinks her photos are unrealistic, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Debate Rages in W: Just How Beautiful is Charlize Theron?

We can all agree that Charlize Theron is a lovely woman, right? That might be why more than half of W’s June profile (imaginatively titled “Charlize Theron”) is about her looks. To be fair, this is a well-researched profile: writer Gabriel Snyder relies not just on the actress’ self-assessments of her appearance, but he also did the tireless footwork of finding multiple men who agree that Theron is fetching.  He even manages to inject his own evaluation of Theron’s attractiveness. So in-depth!

That’s not to say the topic of Theron’s appearance should be off limits. There’s a serious exploration to be done somewhere, though probably not in the pages of W, about why average-looking actresses aren’t cast to play average-looking characters, why a stunning actress downplaying her attributes wins awards (see Nicole Kidman in The Hours, Theron herself in Monster), and whether beauty is a liability to a performer who wants to do more than look hot onscreen.

But little of that makes it into this article. We get this instead:

In fact, the surest way to rile her is to suggest that she’s somehow “transformed” herself yet again in several post-Monster roles, among them, a female miner battling sexism in the Minnesota iron mines in the 2005 film North Country, a Tennessee detective (who’s a brunette) in 2007’s In the Valley of Elah, and, most recently, a desperate single mom in this year’s Sleepwalking.

Love the equation of brunette with less attractive. This is Theron’s rebuttal:

“Oh, no, you better not be bringing up ‘ugly,’” she admonishes when I broach the subject…But after [Monster], she points out, whenever she’s played “women in middle America living normal lives,” she’s heard cries of “ugly,” no matter what they looked like. “North Country was dirt. That’s what happens when you go into a mine. In the Valley of Elah—that’s when I took real offense, because that was just my real hair color and me with no makeup.”

Snyder again:

Looking at her, you have to conclude that Theron is being unduly self-deprecating, and that the truth lies somewhere between the red carpet and North Country.

Is that what you have to conclude? Can I conclude that she’s an actress whose job involves changing her appearance? Can I conclude that dithering over whether Theron is beautiful may be the least important and least interesting debate to ever make it into print?

But what does my opinion matter? Let’s get someone with a penis in here to settle this.

Her friend Woody Harrelson, her costar in North Country and Sleepwalking, notes that her glamour belies her tomboyishness… “She’s not like a delicate girl,” Harrelson says. “She’s like a classic broad, in terms of being a beautiful woman…”

Even when Hancock co-star Will Smith somehow manages to keep the focus on her talent, that sentiment is undermined by a quote about how she’s, like, totally hot.

“She seemed like the perfect actress to understand that this is funny, but this is a drama too,” says Smith… “What better way to make sure that texture is captured than [to hire] an Academy Award-winning actress? She brings the power and truth that Tommy Lee Jones brought to Men in Black.” She also brings her beauty, notes director Peter Berg. “Who is a better actress that looks like that? No one.”

The implication being that there are indeed better actresses, just none as statuesque as Theron?

Ultimately, the article veers away from her corporeal qualities long enough to mention her boyfriend, her desire to be a mother, and the difficulty women have veering between big-budget blockbusters and more thoughtful films. (Good news! That transition is “a lot easier for men”!)

In any case, there is far more space devoted to pictures of Theron than to text about her. Which, considering the overarching emphasis on how lovely she is, must be exactly the point.