theasceticlibertine

Frivolous Fantasy vs. Luxurious Practicality: The Vogue Wars

 
 
I just finished, in all that spare time I have, a much-neglected library book that I needed to return asap, Grace Mirabella's In and Out of Vogue.  It was very interesting to get a look at how the magazine used to be run in the 50's and 60's, and the changes that the 70's and 80's brought about.  Mirabella's no-nonsense tone defines what the magazine was under her leadership--practical, down-to-earth, less about "fashion" and more about "style."  She took over from the legendary Diana Vreeland, who was known for extolling the more fantastical side of fashion with a capital F.  When the beige and pant-suited 70's came around, Vreeland was out of her element.  People wanted modern and chic, not over-the-top and fairytale.  When the Me-Me-Me 80's descended on Mirabella, she too found herself usurped and replaced, by a younger, glamorous editor named Anna Wintour:

 

Mirabella's memoir is a very readable book, and I was quite interested in the behind-the-scenes aspect of working at, then running, Vogue.  Mirabella wanted her Vogue to talk to modern,working women, and completely dismissed the girlifying 80's and 90's as taking women 100 steps backward.  And this from a woman who was never a feminist until she was ousted at Vogue!  Interesting.  For that, she gets full marks from me.

However, what I couldn't get past was Mirabella's condescending and dismissive tone toward haute couture.  In her opinion, Vogue should have steered clear of fashion with fantastical elements and any perception of unattainability.  I fundamentally disagree.  I think one of the strongest elements of fashion is its fantastical, artistic nature.  That's what elevates something from "clothing" to "art."  She excoriates Christian Lacroix for basically, being himself, and true to his vision.  This is where we parted ways.  I'm sure there was a market for a fashion bible that ran serious health coverage and modern, wearable clothes only--after all, Mirabella's great complaint about her firing is that Vogue's circulation had never fallen during her tenure--but to me, that's not Vogue.  Maybe I have fully drunk Wintour's Kool-Aid, but I like my reality with a nice dose of fantasy and I happen to love Christian Lacroix.  I was glad, in the end, that Wintour was picked to take over at Vogue, and that the coverage in Vogue isn't just beige and cashmere, but also the marvelous worlds that spring forth from Grace Coddington's beautiful imagination.  Mirabella herself admits that Vogue was for a long time a picture book.  I don't think there's anything wrong with that.  Fashion is a largely visual medium.  And a lot of women want something to escape to--Vogue, and fashion, serve that purpose.  Which is not to say I don't like it when Vogue runs hard-hitting articles, but I don't need it to.  I can get that news elsewhere. 

Mirabella went on to form an eponymous magazine that included all of the things she wanted from the Vogue that was taken away from her--style and substance over what she perceived was the frivolity of "fashion"--but as the book details, this magazine was also unable to find a foothold in the fickle publishing world.  I, for one, am glad to have all kinds of different periodicals to turn to for whatever I want at the moment.  And I'm glad that my Vogue is a known quantity--I like knowing that when I look inside its pages, I'm going to see beauty, even if it is decadent, unattainable beauty.  I guess I'm their target market.  But, let's face it--who wants their fashion bible to be full of beige and cashmere and strictly wearable clothes?  For that, we have store catalogs.  For fashion, we have Vogue.

Cheerier and Cheerier

Ah, the turmoil of grad school.  Of projects and studying and libraries and insanity.  Over for this semester, for me, at long last.  And I have a nice, long break.  Except I'm moving, because I'm nuts and decided to plan my move around the holidays.  Yeah, crazy.

Except!  Exciting.  Very, very exciting, the move.  And it's going to make me kind of poor, but I don't care, because it'll be very nice to have a place without roommates, a place to act as a kind of sanctuary from the usual craziness that is my life.

Speaking of crazy--if you recall, I had been lustfully gazing at the  Swedish Hasbeens Jodhpur boot (and their evil twin, the No. 6 clog boots).  And then I saw a girl in what I swear to you were these amazing, beautiful will-never-be-mine boots:

 

Why will they never be mine, you ask?  $420 smackers!  Never happening!  Anyway, I saw the girl, and I looked down at her boots, and I wanted to confiscate them immediately.  Being a reasonable person, I merely sighed and put the boots in my imaginary shopping basket in the sky, the one that never gets emptied because it's full of expensive things that I will never buy unless I wake up one day as Anna Wintour.

But occasionally, my friends, there is a Christmas miracle, and that miracle is finding a reasonable facsimile of the boot that I can own and love.  No, these boots are not all-Nappa leather.  No, the lambswool inside is not creamy white.  But they are pretty cool on their own, satisfy my clog boot craving, and will be hella warm for my hate-winter self.  I present to you, the boot that I finally bought, after intense looking everywhere, Sven's 11" Sheepskin Boot:

 
Like I said, not as smooth, not quite as cool, but pretty damn good, eh?  I'm getting them with the natural-color bottoms, though, because I like the contrast.  And normally Sven clog boots aren't exactly cheapo, but I found them on mega-sale!  And so, all is good in my land, crazy moving and all.

Furtastic

So, ladies and gents, it is cold outside.  It has officially hit the time of year when I curse winter out every day until it leaves.  What can I tell you?  I'm a girl from the tropics and the cold just eats into my bones.  I would, however, be much more willing to put up with it if I could spend my days bundled up in this coat:

I wouldn't complain if I had this one, either:

Burberry kills me, it really does.  I'm still looking for a reasonable facsimile of a double-breasted wool cape they made a few years back.  I haven't been able to find anything even close.  Le sigh. 

In the great debate on fur, I stand on the side of only wearing vintage or faux.  Since I was given a couple of real vintage furs (really old, from the 40's, I think), I can attest to their incredible warmth.  But they kind of creep me out.  That's just me, though.  Anna Wintour definitely disagrees.  Did you see that amazing clip that NYMag had of her interview with 60 Minutes?  Where she says that if the option is to 1) have security with her and wear fur or 2) not wear fur, she will take option 1 every time, no matter how inconvenient or intrusive.  That lady cracks me up.