Glossed Over

W: Inside the "Fantasy" World of Hilary Swank

The January issue of W weighs in at a slim 112 pages, and 18 of those pages are devoted to “Wait Until Dark,” a so-called “erotic fashion fantasy” starring Hilary Swank and a male model whose slender build and bleached hair make him appear to be about 15 years old.  Is there anything sexy about these pictures?  Well, Swank’s bra is visible in two of the shots!  And the boy is bare-chested!   Scandalous!  Unless you’re fond of doves, blindfolds, and dudes with a tiny metal spike protruding from the lower lip, there isn’t a single interesting thing about this spread, with the possible exception of a “wool and coq feather vest” by Ann Demeulemeester as worn by aforementioned model, seen here with, oh yes, the aforementioned dove.

What the hell is that all about? 

We just don’t understand.  Why is he wearing a shirt collar with his necklaces?

What with the positively ludicrous, poorly lit “erotic fantasy” preceding it, we hoped for an equally dark interview.  And we got it!   Sort of.

Don’t expect to see Hilary Swank checking herself in at Promises any time soon.  But the actress does seem to have a bit of a pill problem.

Amphetamines?  Diet pills?  If only!  No, Swank takes a lot of vitamins, “nearly 45” every day, and gets in a nice plug for her nutritionist in explaining her daily intake.

A devotee of celebrity nutritionist Oz Garcia for the past seven years, Swank sees her regimen as one of the secrets to her success.  “Oz has changed my life.  The Longevity Pak is so awesome,” she says, eyes shining.

Only two paragraphs in, and our eyes are shining, too.  With tears of boredom.  The article segues into the usual: She has a high metabolism!  She’s on her second pastry of the day!  She was just on Oprah!  She’s really, really enthusiastic about everything! 

But here’s where it gets interesting.  After a boilerplate synopsis of P.S. I Love You, writer Catherine Hong spends three paragraphs taking Swank and her “mile-wide maw” (really!) down a notch.  There’s a thorough catalog of the actress’ box office flops and a discussion of Warner Bros. honcho Jeff Robinov announcing that the studio would no longer release films with female leads.  (Swank, for her part, claims it’s not clear whether he made that statement.)

And then the swipes continue:

…[Swank’s boyfriend] tagged along at events as run-of-the-mill (for A-listers, anyway) as an Escada store opening, a press event for Pantene and a lunch at the Hotel Bel-Air she hosted for Guerlain.

Two weird things there: the vaguely passive-aggressive “for A-listers, anyway” comment, and the failure to mention that Swank is actually the face of Guerlain fragrance Insolence.  Perhaps the latter can be explained by Guerlain’s lack of advertising is this issue?  (No hard feelings, W:  Swank is on the cover of BlackBook, which gives her a relentlessly cheerful profile, and Guerlain didn’t place an ad with them, either, though we did spot a full-page ad in the current issue of French Glamour.)

Next, Hong takes on the actress’ recent move to L.A.:

…the reasons she gives for abandoning the Big Apple are far from convincing.  “I looked and looked and looked for a place in New York.  I just didn’t find anything,” she insists.  “Prices have just skyrocketed!”  (For the record, she and [ex-husband] Lowe sold their four-floor town house on Charles Street for $7.5 million last January.)

Zing!

And this sort of awesome, though perhaps petulant, question when the topic turns to Swank’s boyfriend:

So, is she in love?  “Of course I’m in love,” she says somewhat curtly.  “Or I wouldn’t be in this relationship for as long as I’ve been…”

Ooh, surly!  Before the interview gets too out of hand, however, Hong wraps up with the typically effusive quotes from pals.  And then Swank trots out this statement, which is so frequently recited by celebrities that it must be handed to them on a laminated wallet-size card when they step off the plane at LAX.

“...You know, it’s tiring, but I can’t complain, because I’m getting to do what I love.”

Aww!  Picking apart your interview lets us do what we love, too!

W: Cash in Short Supply, Smugness Still Plentiful

If there’s one thing we’ve learned from reading W, it's that being wealthy is incredibly demanding.  The parade of evidence continues in December’s issue  with the article “Nouveaux Pauvres.”  Does the title make you hate it already?  Yeah, us too, but the subhead manages to be even worse!  “London’s new prosperity has once posh types feeling poor,” it says.  Uh, yeah.  Cry us a river.  For a moment, we entertained the faint hope that that the article would prove to be an intelligent discussion about the economy, inflation, and the state of the British pound.  No such luck!

We didn’t have to read too far into the article to discern that that piece serves primarily as a venue for the formerly wealthy (and still undeniably well-off) to complain about their lowered standard of living.  Like this guy, who “asked not to be named,” and no wonder:

“…there was my own kid, going to state school down at the bottom of the hill.  For the first time in my life, I felt working class.”

Aw, and to think this fellow grew up in a seven-bedroom home!  How the mighty have fallen!

To be fair, the article does cite some mind-boggling stats:  Britain’s housing prices have increased 52 percent in the last five years.  Skilled clerical temp workers are earning $400,000 a year working in finance, which is more than twice the salary of a fashion magazine editor-in-chief.  Which is a totally relevant and helpful salary comparison.  (Also, is being bitchy considered a skill?  If so, we’re moving.)  And, the article continues, prices at Abercrombie and Fitch are twice what they are in the U.S., like the people in this piece would ever deign to shop there.

Of course, there’s no explanation of why feeling (though not actually being) working class is so terrible, especially when, by all accounts, the people profiled still have more money than they could possibly need.  And the plight of those who truly are working class?  Ignored, natch.

At least those super-rich types are incredibly compassionate.  Or not so much.

One investment banker, who asked to remain anonymous [because he’s a total ass], said the vast majority of his colleagues would not be able to send their children to private schools… “Of course, it would be a real struggle for them, but you know, tough s---,” [sic] he says.  “That’s just the way it is now.”

Charming!

Fortunately for those who can still scrape up enough silver to send their kids to a private school, there are also establishments where they can gather to discuss their world-domination cabal and not have to worry about encountering the hoi polloi.  Yet another anonymous banker type (what is it with these guys?)  fills us in on the clubs that cater to wealthy men:

“True, it’s difficult to become a member, but once you’re in, membership costs almost nothing, you never have to fight to get a table, and the meals are considerably cheaper than Zuma,” says one London banker, referring to a top foodie haunt.

Oh, good!  The insanely wealthy are saving money!  The article goes on to further detail the adversity the wealthy face everyday in this new, cash-crazed England:

Some Londoners have caved and begun sending their kids to state schools or “the scruffier private schools”…

And:

Hector Macdonald….is seeking his fortune outside the UK.  He’s been snapping up houses, not in Belgravia but in Bulgaria, “because they’re cheap and it’s a good investment,” he says.

Still more!  An art collector (is that an actual profession? sounds like a hobby) with a net worth upwards of $20 million says:

“We’re ‘comfortably’ poor.  We’re swimming on the edges of real wealth.”  By that she means the sort of wealth that buys a private jet, or at the very least, an account with NetJets.  “The rich don’t fly commercial anymore,” she says.

Are your eyes filling with tears yet?  The struggles of the rich continue!

Helen Kirwan-Taylor, an American writer whose English husband heads up a hedge fund, is one of the only people on her block in Holland Park without a chauffeur. 

Kirwan-Taylor, at least, does acknowledge that there are worse problems than having to drive your own car:

“London is what it is because of the creative industries based here,” says Kirwan-Taylor.  “And if the intellectual body of the city—the artists, writers, designers, creative directors—can no longer afford to live here, that’s a big risk we’re taking.”

Perhaps those artsy types should just marry bankers like she did! 

Others predict the growing ranks of the discontented might well spur a new wave of creativity in literature and art.

Because, you know, being poor begets art.  The wealthy folk know all about that, because they saw Rent.  The stage production, even, not merely the movie!

The article wraps up with a brief paragraph about the action the government is considering to normalize the economy, then reminds us of who’s truly suffering in this situation.

But it might be too late for [Lady Kinvara] Balfour, who, like many young London professionals, is contemplating a move abroad.  “You can do so much more with your money in America,” she says.

Indeed!  In this great land, the rich can revert to feeling superior to the rest of us.

Brad and Jen Reunited at the Newsstand

…thanks to some clever merchandising at our local mega-chain bookstore.

Related: There are nine different covers for the current issue of W, but the only ones we’ve seen at the newsstands and stores in our little corner of L.A. are Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie (and Angelina landed in our mailbox a couple of days back).  Is this a coincidence, or are the covers specific to particular regions?  Where are you, and what covers are available in your area?

W Hopes Someone's Still Taking Sides in Celebrity Feud

The second annual Art Issue of W is out…and with dueling covers!  Such classy, current covers they are, too!  And economical, too, using paparazzi photos of Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie for the cover instead of, you know, staging an actual photo shoot.  Or do they have to pay a residual to Brad Pitt for referring to his marital troubles?

Last year’s first-ever Art Issue is nominated for ASME’s 2007 Best Cover Award.  Somehow, we doubt these covers are going to be nominated for anything, unless some organization offers awards for Most Likely to Resemble the Cover of US Weekly and Trying Hardest to Cash In On an Outdated Celebrity Scandal. 

So which one will you buy?  We’re leaning toward Aniston.  Or maybe we’ll just pick up the latest issue of Star instead.

Edit:  There are actually nine covers: Nicole Kidman, Lindsay Lohan, Cameron Diaz, Katie Holmes, Jennifer Aniston, Julia Roberts, Jessica Simpson, Angelina Jolie, and Britney Spears.  Apparently, this is what W considers art.

Scoping Out September Issues (Still): W

We know, we know.   This issue came out weeks ago, and we’re just now getting to it?   In our defense, it only showed up in the mail on Thursday.  This issue took ages to arrive, but at least our J. Crew catalogs arrive three times a week.  Sheesh.

All right…we might as well open the magazine.   After all, the October issue is probably going to show up any minute!

The issue weighs: 4.2 pounds

Issue thickness:  just over an inch

Who’s on the cover: Gwyneth Paltrow, looking how we imagine Donatella Versace looked thirty years ago—too much brow, too much blonde, too much bronzer.  Did Gwyn even look in the mirror before she stepped in front of the camera?

Who bought the back cover: Giorgio Armani.  The model’s wearing a shirt of paillettes and strange sleeves reminiscent of chain mail that aren’t even attached to the top.  We’ll cave to leggings long before we drop cash on woven metal sleeves.

Number of ad pages between the cover and the table of contents: The table of contents starts on page 112 and continues on 205—like the rest of the September issues, this tome is absurdly ad-heavy.

Total number of pages: 640!  It’s W’s biggest issue ever! Why, according to the cover, it’s

A Fall Fashion Bonanza

A bonanza of advertising, that is!  See below. 

How many of those pages are ads: 477, about 75 percent (source: MIN Online)

Subscription cards: Three bound.   We can deal.

Cosmetic samples: Daisy by Marc Jacobs.  Eh.  The ubiquitous Fendi Palazzo, about which we still aren’t convinced.  Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb, which, yeah, lives up to its name.   That’s not a compliment.

Is it portable? We’ll just say that it felt more than a tad weird using our canvas Target tote to schlep a magazine that features a $22,650 crocodile bag.

Number of articles concerning the obscenely wealthy:  Oh, virtually all of them.   Our favorite (of the ones we bothered to read, because why torture ourselves?) was “Just Like Mom,” wherein young, super-rich women borrow clothes from their young-looking, super-rich moms.   Oh, fun!  It’s, like, recycling!

For one bash, Samantha pulled out a black and gold minidress that Jamee had donned for a New Year’s fete in Lyford Cay some thirty years ago.

Yep, totally quotidian.  Ready for the quote?

“Everyone was asking me, ‘Is that Prada?  Miu Miu?’  And it’s like, a $275 dress from Alexander’s, but it was just so incredibly chic.”

See, it’s nothing!   It’s just a dress that was crazy expensive when it was new a whole generation ago!  And that is why we eventually stopped reading the articles in this issue.

Not as annoying as we expected:  Gwyneth Paltrow’s interview.  That’s because it is actually, totally, definitively impossible to be more annoyed by her personality than we were by the photo of her feeding a rat with a sippy cup.  What the hell?

Exactly as annoying as expected: “Wild Roses,” shot by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott.  Because, you know, we don’t expect much from photo editorials that involve live poultry.

More annoying than we expected:  It’s a tie between the aforementioned crocodile bag and the $3,300 crocodile gloves.  For the woman who wants to spend exactly the same amount of her gloves as she did on her most recent lunchtime mini-lift.

Best pseudonym ever: Jinx Titanic, who suggested a Posh-Becks-Brad-Angelina foursome in a letter to the editor (page 304). Jinx may well be the most awesome person alive.  Update: Kate at Fishbowl LA writes that Jinx Titanic is a punk legend.  Which, yes, makes the letter even better.

W Redefines "Fashion Victim" in Furry Photo Spread

We may not always like W’s fashion spreads, but we do appreciate that they don’t just pose the models in front of a gray fabric backdrop and call it a day.  The resulting photos are challenging and striking, and they always have a point of view.

All of which, sadly, is the best we can muster for “Into the Woods,” August.  It challenged us, all right—challenged us not to throw the whole issue across the room.  It wasn’t just the photos that looked like a child’s birthday party gone horribly wrong:

       
No, what really got to us was the stream of photos of model Doutzen Kroes wearing exotic furs while posed as if dead.  Is implied violence with an added hint of nudity what passes for edgy?

    

    

    

Good job, W!  Nothing makes us crave a Gucci badger fur coat like seeing it on the victim of a crime!  And nothing says high fashion like a dead woman wearing dead animals!

We're Bitching Again (Okay, Still)

Remember this tale from W about a handful of women who just couldn’t find the right nanny to scour the marble bath and wetnurse the kids?  We do hope they’ve managed to find suitable household help since that article was published, a feat surely made easier by airing their complaints in a high-circulation magazine! How’s that nanny search going now, we wonder?

Anyway, Bitch magazine has reprinted the post (which stirred up some very interesting comments) in its Summer issue.  And if rereading our words from a few weeks back and supporting an independent media voice isn’t reason enough to pick up a copy, this edition also contains sharp insights on (among other things) the Pussycat Dolls, Gardasil commercials, and email scams, as well as a lengthy interview with Kara Jesella and Marisa Meltzer, authors of How Sassy Changed My Life.  We are definitely staying up late to read that.

W: It's Still Not Easy Being Enormously Wealthy

Like last month’s article about the oh-so-difficult quest to find the perfect nanny wasn’t enough, the May issue of W is replete with even more of the difficulties of the upper-crust experience.

Take this quote from “Mystic River” by Christopher Bagley, wherein the author discusses the rough adjustment to the service at the Old Cataract Hotel, “allegedly the best place” in Aswan, Egypt. Why the “allegedly”? Well, after a week of being catered to hand-and-foot on a cruise down the Nile, Bagley faces a rude awakening.

I distractedly reach for the handbell to summon the waiter, only to realize that there is no bell. And no waiter.

Grudgingly, and a bit wistfully, I get up to fetch lunch myself.

Oh, we hope he managed!

And let’s not overlook this annoying quote from “Eye: All-Stars,” wherein a wealthy and famous actress displays both a massive sense of entitlement and a seriously lousy sense of judgment:

Meanwhile, at Dior Beauty’s dinner at the Chateau Marmont, Charlize Theron, who happens to be the face of Dior’s J’adore fragrance, dropped by to get her nose powdered while pondering marketing strategies. “How do you get housewives in Cleveland to buy Dior makeup?” queried the actress innocently.

“Innocently”? We’re guessing W added that because even they recognize that making sweeping generalizations about the people to whom you’re trying to sell expensive luxury goods is exceedingly poor form.  And whatever your sales strategy, it’s probably a lot harder now that the brand's spokesperson has impugned the potential customers’ taste and buying power in a national magazine.  Good job, Charlize!

And a hearty congratulations to W, too, for its steady stream of class-conscious tripe.  If their goal is to accentuate the gap between the wealthy and the rest of us, they’re doing a commendable job.

The Week: Vogue Goes Bold, Features Actual Models

• First, a look at next month’s Vogue and W covers.  Shocker!  Those are models, not movie stars, on the cover of Vogue.  Though if there absolutely must be a celeb on the cover, it’s hard to argue with America Ferrera.

• Jane’s newsstand sales may be flagging, but that hasn’t stopped the development of a TV show.

• Ooh, juicy.  Editors from Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, and Bazaar live it up in New Orleans, while low-level staffers at the magazines have their raises delayed.  We expect this incident to spawn at least one more thinly veiled novel about a magazine assistant.

• Is Good Housekeeping going hip?  As part of a makeover, the magazine hires editors from Jane and Lucky.

• Is Ashlee Simpson the face of June’s Cosmopolitan?  If so, why?

• And Jane Pratt blah blah blah another interview blah blah blah.  Yep, even we’re bored with her by now.

W: Doing Its Part to Incite Class Warfare

At what point is it considered obnoxious to bemoan your station in life?  Because we think that point was reached with W’s “The Babysitters Club,” April, wherein a roundtable of four accomplished, wealthy women complain about their nannies.  Who knew that hiring live-in help was fraught with the potential for so much heartbreak?

We’ve heard our own stories, however, about high-maintenance nannies among this particularly fast set:...

These women have full-time, live-in help, and the nannies are the high-maintenance ones?

There’s the one who asked if the family would be ordering Mr. Chow’s for dinner and the baby nurse who, on a charter jet to go skiing with a family, announced she’s “never been on a private plane this small.”

Oh, we get it now.  There’s nothing worse than when the help doesn’t know its place.

Really, we have to applaud W for broadening our horizons with this child-care provider summit.  We had no clue how incredibly taxing it is to find someone who’ll be a devoted caretaker and scrub the shower.

“That’s a struggle we’re having—most nannies aren’t housekeepers.”

Gasp!  A real struggle indeed!  Have they considered an awareness-raising ribbon campaign?  Or perhaps a telethon?

Worse—if you can even believe this—there are nannies who would rather not dedicate their entire lives to these privileged Park Avenue spawn.  Such gall these sitters display, having their own dreams and ambitions that don’t involve raising someone else’s children!

“I had this great young Brazilian nanny and I was really excited…But she aspired to be something else.  Not a babysitter.  That was such a bummer.”

Sure, Cristina Greeven Cuomo didn’t choose to stay home with her own children, but when the nanny wants a different career, it's unacceptable!  Nannies are...different!  Somehow!  In a way no one quoted in this article can explain!

Sarcasm aside, at least all this blubbering was confined to a mere two pages (albeit two oversized pages).  And we should clarify that, especially after reading this article, we aren’t suggesting that these women give up  their careers and stay home with the kids.  In fact, quite the contrary—we’re thinking that the less influence these women have on their children, the better.

The Week: Simple-Minded Simple Life Stars Land Bazaar Cover

• First, a bit of Glossed Over news.  We’d love to hear more like this.  Got dirt?  Email us. Also, we’ve added Twitter to our front page for quick updates.

•  Hankering for more thinly veiled, poorly written “fiction” about a spunky editor being deposed from her eponymous magazine?  Gawker’s got another installment.  Or hear the actual story from Jane Pratt next Friday.

•  Anna Wintour hates the word “blog” and has ordered her staff to come up with a replacement immediately. 

•  W, Glamour, and Vogue were nominated for National Magazine Awards.  We aren’t sure why either.

•  And in case you needed another reason not to read Bazaar, the June cover will feature Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie.  Pass!

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.

Lagerfeld Lacks Charm, Intact Hosiery in W

We’ve long been terrified of Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld.  There’s something about the perma-tan and the ever-present sunglasses we find deeply creepy—like this man would spend every free moment committing Patrick Bateman-style depravity if it wouldn’t mess up his clothes.  But from W’s “The Full Monte,” February, comes evidence that maybe—just maybe—designer Karl Lagerfeld isn’t quite as bizarre as he looks.  Behind the ubiquitous pair of gloves lurks…a normal human being?

“I like you as a blond,” Lagerfeld pronounces, also assessing [the model’s] figure and then assuming a concerned parental tone: “You put on some weight, no?  That’s good.  You were on the border of being too skinny.”

A model?  Too skinny?  We thought a too-thin model was to the fashion industry what Santa Claus is to us—you know, something you hear a lot about on television but that doesn’t truly exist.  Score one for Karl.

But then he almost immediately reverts to weirdness.

…Lagerfeld hoists a pair of scissors and cuts out the crotch and feet.  Upon his instructions, slices of hosiery are scrunched onto [a model’s] wrists and neck.  “It’s chic, non?” Lagerfeld asks…

Well, chic isn’t the word we’d use to describe a model wearing Wolford hose on her neck, but we aren’t the ones with a multi-million dollar design empire, right? 

So we’ll stick to assessing those glimpses of personality rather than those peeks at his creative process.  Singer Chan Marshall (also known as Cat Power) discloses her conversation with the designer:

Marshall confesses that she shook [Princess Caroline’s] hand a little too vigorously.  “I almost ripped it off,” she says.  “I said to Karl, ‘I’m embarrassed.’  He said, ‘You have a lot of class—working class.’  He’s such a warm, funny dude.”

Sure, if by “warm and funny” she means “unabashed snob.”  But obviously Karl knows about class—after all, he only cuts up the best stockings to wrap around his models’ extremities.  We think Patrick Bateman would approve. 

The Week: February's W Gets Caught In Traffic

•  The publishers of Glamour and Vogue are the front runners in the race to be named the Condé Nast publisher of the year.  Those not nominated continue to act indifferent about this award. 

•  Elle brings Joe Zee on board as creative director.  First task: finding a way to cram even more words on the cover.

•  And a truck carrying copies of the February issue of W crashed in Ohio, spilling copies of the magazine across Interstate 71 and causing massive traffic jams.  Yeah, sometimes W brings us screeching to a halt, too.  (And if this had happened a month ago, at least there’d be a plausible reason why we have yet to receive our January subscription copy—though, considering it was a Sienna Miller cover, perhaps we should just be glad to have dodged that bullet.)

W: What's Wrong With Michael Kors? Play Along With Us!

When we were young, we spent a considerable amount of time staring at “What’s wrong with this picture?” brain teasers.  A perfectly normal scene in the pages of a puzzle book would soon reveal itself to be an absurdist masterpiece—it wasn’t long before we’d realize, “Oh!  That man is holding a banana to his ear instead of a phone!”

Little did we know that those puzzles also come in a grown-up text version—and in W, yet.  From a profile of Michael Kors, “Pop Kors,” December, comes this whopper of a word game:

He…happily endorses her penchant for the nip and tuck.  “If you can have your knees done and it allows you to wear a short skirt and you’re over 40, great!” he says.  As for naysayers, he adds, “It’s like saying, ‘Oh, I cut my foot and I refuse to use a Band-Aid.’  That’s moronic.  Use the Band-Aid.”

Oh, this looks like a challenging one.  All right, kids, let’s play!  How many completely invalid ideologies are espoused in this statement?  Here’s our list:

1.    Elective plastic surgery is as much of a no-brainer as applying a bandage.
2.    Women must have their knees surgically altered in order to wear a short skirt.
3.    Women over 40 shouldn’t wear short skirts.
4.    Aging women must have plastic surgery to remain aesthetically pleasing instead of just, you know, aging gracefully.  Or just plain aging.
5.    Opting out of plastic surgery is moronic.

Now it’s your turn to play along at home.  How many fallacies and logical errors did you find?

W: Can We Revert to "Seen and Not Heard"?

W has included a special section in the December issue called “W Junior.” It’s exactly what it sounds like, only more obnoxious. The section kicks off with “Say What?,” which delves into the previously unexplored (and for good reason) territory of the children of the fashionable. We dare you to read the intro—see if you don’t shiver in terror.

What happens when you take your two-year-old to too many fashion shows? She starts asking for carats, cocktails and couture—and critiquing your look.

Seriously terrifying stuff ensues, like this gem from Donna Karan’s three-year-old granddaughter, all of it written in a dripping “oh, aren’t they adorable?” tone:

“‘Why are you wearing flats? You should be wearing heels. You can walk in them. I’ll show you how,’” says Karan, mimicking the tiny fashion critic, who likes to slip into stilettos and show her grandmother how to strut like a runway model.

No one else sees a problem with a three-year-old preening down an imaginary runway?

Then there’s this darling quote from Lucy Sykes’s three-year-old, whose name is Heathcliff Rellie. No, really. That’s his name.  (Or maybe it’s Heathcliffe, as it’s spelled in the caption but not in the text.) The kid’s response to a sweater?

“Mummy, it’s so chic.”

And, really, it’s no wonder he said that, explains Sykes.

“I have been saying that since he was zero,” she says, giggling. “It’s just in our vocabulary.”

Dangerously precocious though these children may be, you can’t blame them for parroting their parents. Even so, we aren’t exactly chuckling at the idea of tots shouting “Credit card!” in the middle of Barney’s (as Jeremey Tahari, son of Elie and Rory, once did) and disabusing us of the notion that materialism develops later in life—like, say, as an unfortunate side effect of puberty.

Writer Amy Allen was also inspired by her child’s advanced sense of style. Her recently released book, This Little Piggy Went to Prada¸is a reworked collection of nursery rhymes, like “Hickory Dickory Dock, how big is Mummy’s rock?”

Yikes.

Perhaps we should  just consider ourselves fortunate to have received advance warning about the fashion insiders of tomorrow. We fear for the future, if only because a toddler who uses the word “chic” can’t possibly grow up to be even remotely tolerable.

Tackling the Tough Topics in W

From W, November:

Male Pattern Badness

Shags, spikes, feathers, flips—an epidemic of bad haircuts is afflicting modern men.

Oh, so the lousy hairstyles of Owen Wilson and Nick Lachey are symptomatic of an epidemic.  Wonder if the World Health Organization is devoting any resources to the battle against bad hair?   

Before this article opened our eyes, we naively thought epidemics had to be serious. Or life-threatening.  Or, at the very least, interesting. (We’ve racked our brains on this one, but we honestly can’t think of anything that intrigues us less than the blond Wilson’s hair, except maybe Nick Lachey’s hair.)

Fortunately, W’s intrepid journalism has forced us to step outside the cozy little bubble we inhabit.  We can hardly believe that, until we read this story, we thought the prevailing epidemic was the rapidly encroaching trend of magazines publishing overly dramatic articles on topics of no importance to anyone.

Some Things Never Change, Designer Claims in W

From W’s “The Month in Fashion,” November:

[Vera] Wang is teaming up with the budget department store chain [Kohl’s] to create the lower-priced Very Vera by Vera Wang…”I can become a more iconic American brand and be exposed to America in a larger sense,” Wang told Women’s Wear Daily, W’s sister publication. Still, she quipped, “It doesn’t mean I don’t love a $12,000 cocktail dress.” Industry observers speculate that Wang will bank $100 million in the deal…

Sure, some people might change when they acquire extreme wealth (like, say, $100 million), but not Vera Wang—no, the steadfast designer has never once wavered from her principles. Good for you, Vera! We’d hate to see you compromise your ideals and lose your desire for those ultra-pricy dresses.

W: The Ultimate Punishment for Crimes of Fashion

If we had to choose only one thing we dislike about the cover of October’s W —not an easy feat since we could make a list, which would include both the use of the outmoded word “coed” and Janet Jackson’s disturbing lack of a neck—we’d select the second headline on the left:

The Fatted Calf: What to Do When You Can’t Fit Into the Season’s Boots

The fatted calf, eh? Apparently, anyone who can’t squeeze her lower leg into a tall skinny boot should be led to slaughter.

Spite Always In Style at W

We’re almost impressed by his bitchiness. In September’s “The Month in Fashion,” W’s associate editor, Marc Karimzadeh, slams both Madonna and petite women. (Full disclosure: We have no great affection for Esther, but we are definitely on the short side.)

First, his take on Madonna’s campaign for trendy clothing chain H&M:

Madonna has long been a fan of designer labels like Versace, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana and her perennial favorite, Jean Paul Gaultier…But as she proved with her 2003 ads for the Gap, when a paycheck is proffered, the Material Girl is more than happy to slip into less pricey material.

Meow! Good thing she did that bizarre horse-themed spread (and cover, shown here) in W months ago, long after the Gap commercials and way before she sold out again by endorsing clothes her fans can actually afford. We wouldn’t want someone like Madonna to sully the ultra-high-fashion W by doing anything weird like, oh, wearing tracksuits or posing naked with a stallion.

Oh, wait, she did appear unusually close to a horse in the pages of this very magazine. But that was art, right?

And then Marc—who, we surmise, is having a bad month—turns his poison pen on a specific segment of Saks customers. Worth noting: the item, which discusses Saks Fifth Avenue’s decisiuon to discontinue its petite department, is titled “Little Women.” Gag.

Saks Fifth Avenue learned a valuable lesson this year: Don’t forget the little people…When faced with the angry little women, the big retailer backed down.

Referring to “angry little women” is the verbal equivalent of a dismissive pat on the head.   It’s like he’d prefer that anyone with the audacity to be too short to walk a Paris runway be confined to a life of ill-fitting clothing. What, are petite women taking up too much of his tailor’s attention?  Does he have some personal vendetta against short people who, we should add, lack height through no fault of their own?

Not that we’re very bitter. In fact, we’re rather amused by this fashion-world cattiness.  We just hope that next time he lashes out, he does so on a broader series of targets.  Imagine the scandal (and sudden lack of financial viability) that will ensue when a major magazine throws a barb at every store, celeb, and designer in its pages!  We can hardly wait.

W Gives Us Granny Panties, Nightmares

We are completely and utterly terrified by this portrait of Natalia Vodianova in W’s “Call of the Wild,” August. 

Sure, the hairless cat cradled to her bare chest is a tad weird. And the Alexander McQueen feathered headpiece is rather unusual, though it did remind us to get cracking on our Tippi-Hedren-in-The-Birds Halloween costume.

Nope, it’s another element of this photo that will haunt us for ages. 

It’s those briefs Natalia’s wearing. Those black ones. The ones you almost can’t see because they’re nearly hidden by the cat’s endless skin folds. Those ones that go over her waist and halfway to her armpits.

They’re terrible. Horrifying.  Heart-stoppingly, jaw-droppingly bad. And they’re proof that you can create the most deliberately obtuse fashion spread ever—Natalia cuddles with a skull!  She arcs her back over a pile of books with a pirate ship on her stomach!—and still, nothing will stand out as much as a pair of panties that cover the model’s entire midsection.

Considering the spread’s title, after all, we were expecting something a little racier, a little more stylish.  Or at least something a little less like the panties we’ll probably put on when we’re old, gray, and toothless.

W: Kate Bosworth Hates Publicity, Kryptonite

In W’s “Flying High,” July, Kate Bosworth makes it clear that she hates talking to journalists other than Clark Kent:

…Bosworth’s insecurities seem real, and she confides that they’re exacerbated by the interview process. “You’re being asked things and you’re wondering if you’re sounding somewhat eloquent or like a complete idiot…”

And then she makes a naïve attempt to stonewall reporter Marshall Heyman:

At one point she says she loves to be “passionate.” About what? “I knew you’d ask that, and all of a sudden I don’t know.” Later, I ask her where she goes from here, and she begins discussing her flight back to Los Angeles. When I tell her that’s obviously not what I’m asking, she says, “Well, it’s easier to answer that way.”

But didn’t anyone notice that she also detests being photographed? In every single photo in the spread, she appears to be desperately in need of Superman’s soothing presence. Here, we bring you a Glossed Over exclusive (and, we should note, a total fabrication):  Kate Bosworth’s actual thoughts during her W photo shoot.

Oh, my sides! I told that stylist I’m bloated and that she shouldn’t fasten all the buttons, but did she listen? Nooo! Quick, someone bring me a stool—I’m so weak from pain I can’t stand any longer!  Okay, now do I look sexy?  Think about Orlando.  Concentrate on Orlando.

This dress is so tight it’s preventing circulation in my arms. Maybe if I massage my left arm, I can save the limb before it shrivels up and falls off.  Isn’t it burden enough that I’m the girl with the different-colored eyes?  What kind of career would I have as the one-armed girl with different-colored eyes?   

My head hurts from thinking about the completely overblown budget of Superman Returns. Didn’t anyone see the film? They obviously didn’t spend nearly enough of that cash on my wardrobe. Or on my hair.  Especially my hair.  Ooh, I hated being a brunette. Excedrin, please!

Stupid photographer telling me to arch my back. “More!  Give me fierce, like Lois Lane tackling the biggest story to hit Metropolis in ages!  Look mean, like Lex Luthor is trying to kidnap your super son Jason!  Yeah!” Being an actress is sooooo hard sometimes.  I hated that kid.

Implausible though it may be, the only explanation for this bizarre set of photos is that someone on the set had a sizeable stash of Kryptonite. At least Superman didn’t swoop in to rescue his beloved Lois Lane and therefore fall victim to the green remnants of his home planet—adding his awkwardly rippled burgundy cape and total lack of charisma to these pics may have been the only way to make them worse.

W: How to Be Criminally Chic

From W’s “Hollywood’s Diet Drug,” July, about the spate of socialites and celebrities taking attention deficit hyperactivity disorder drug Adderall to stay slender:

“It’s much chicer to discreetly take an Adderall with a cosmo than it is to snort a line of coke off the toilet at Bungalow 8,” says another current social fixture.  “It really is a lady’s drug.”

So illegally obtaining and using a prescription drug is ladylike.  Got it.

Unfortunately, W didn’t weigh in on which other felonies are sufficiently proper for its readers to indulge in:  grand larceny?  arson?  kidnapping?  We may never know if our other less-than-legal habits would pass muster with W, which is too bad; even the criminal deserve to be as chic as possible.

Unless they’re snorting drugs off any kind of plumbing fixture.  Never mind criminal law—that’s a clear violation of the laws of style.

Madonna Adores Horses...and Publicity

Is Madonna somehow not getting enough attention?   Is that even possible?

We just flipped through the pop star’s equestrian-themed feature in the June issue of W (photos, including the one shown at right, are online here), and we can’t decide whether Madonna really, really loves horses or if her management team simply decided too much time has passed since she’s done anything even remotely controversial.

(And posing topless with horses, as she does in this spread?  It’s no “Like a Prayer,” but someone’s going to be offended.)

The entire shoot is artful, but we’re bored with the whole supposed-to-be-shocking routine.  Next time this woman needs some affection, does she have to pose for fifty-eight over-the-top pages in a magazine? Can’t she just trot around her English country manor on her own horses instead?

Lohan Appears in W, Publicist Works Overtime

After reading the profile of Lindsay Lohan and Meryl Streep in May’s issue of W, we think La Lohan, for all her tabloid-friendly travails, may simply be suffering from an extreme form of denial.  How else to explain this reaction to Polaroids from the magazine’s photo shoot? 

…she does fret about the influence on younger fans of one picture of her with a cigarette.  “A girl with asthma, smoking,” she says.  “Great.”

So, for the record, Lindsay didn’t pull a cigarette out of her Balenciaga tote.  She didn’t ask the hairstylist for a light.  She most definitely did not stick the flaming thing in her mouth and inhale.  And she certainly didn’t let anyone photograph her doing such a thing. 

Also, because she is indeed terribly concerned what her younger fans—you know, those people who actually saw Herbie: Fully Loaded—may think of her, she wanted to deny the following rumors: she’s not bulimic (that particular claim is, she asserts, “not true, or taken out of context or whatever it may be”), she doesn’t use illegal drugs, and she, like, doesn’t even know Jared Leto.  Got it, kids?