Glossed Over

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.)