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.
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