The cover for
Vogue, July is a Brit, the lovely and feisty (I hope that’s nothing like the fiesta stomp that Vogue did on Salma Hyack last month) Kate Winslett. Oh, I get it. For the
American Vogue magazine, July just screams (“Quiet, Quiet, Please!”) the green, green lawns of Wimbledon and the Strawberries and Cream complexion of a lovely Brit. But do we get any lovely complexion color from Miss Winslett? Hell no, her spread (don’t think dirty, girls) is in black and white. What is that?
Vogue Irony?
Just received your note,
Miss Anna Wintour. And I must say, “Good Shot Across My Fat Ass! Too Good! Too Goody Good. I courtesy to you, Miss Anna Wintour!”
Miss Anna Wintour noted to me in her note that she “recently had the pleasure of attending a lunch at the White House with a group of women from around the country---including the First Lady.” The First Lady gets Capitols---Hah, Hah, urg…. Wooo, that was a big fur ball.
And what did you think of your White House luncheon (not as good as Breakfast at Tiffany’s…um, Wimbledon…um, Denny’s, wherever)?
“Except for the skirt lengths and the scale of the shoulder pads, we might have been in the eighties…”
OK,
Miss Anna Wintour, you win this round. Your sly insults have been noted and approved and enjoyed. Mrs. Reagan vs. Mrs. Bush. Mrs. Bush is a killer, but Mrs. Reagan wins by staying within her timeframe and tiny frame and Size 0 cut Chanel suits. Oh, Miss Anna Wintour, you sly and fiery Brit! Once again you have burned down the House. You are allowed to wear Rat Fur for the remainder of the month of July (and if it turns cold---there is no Global Warming!) and into August.
I forgive you throwing “..our weight behind Marc Jacob’s darkly romantic direction.” What weight…wait a minute! Our Beloved André Leon Talley has lost 44 pounds! And he is wearing a standard elegant tuxedo and looking standardly elegant!
I am beginning to have doubts about this diet, dear André. It is making you common and
Lindsay Lohan like! What made you
outsize and outrageous and extraordinary has been pared away and bleached into deathly skeletal, blond, white bread, commonplace, unexceptional, dull mediocrity---oh, I’ve run out of words to describe it! In your “…tussle with a hotel minibar” that tempts you to personality ruin with “…leering candy bars, and small winking bags of cookies”, let the minibaar win.
André “…feel(s) like Tolstoy’s stoic Prince Andrey.” “Like Natasha, I love dancing…” “And there I was, a handsome André, a leaner man in white tie.” You know, now that I think of it,
War and Peace is a very good Beach read. Thanks for the reminder, André or Andrey or Natasha or however you spell who you are.
Oprah is very dynamically Napoleonic, isn’t she? I hear that she’ll be storming Hermes with a slander campaign this fall. Just remember to get out of the store before winter Closes in, Oprah. Those winter campaigns are a Bitch.
Bruce Wagner chronicles all the reasons that he should be Gay in
the daddy of cool; but Mr. Wagner isn’t gay. He “...convinced my guilt-ridden parents that Jungian psychoanalysis was necessary, and they sprang for the sessions.” That is something for Mr. Tom Cruise (see page 32 where he consorts with a U.S. Senator at Oprah’s) to contemplate. Maybe there is hope for you, Mr. Cruise---but with a psychoanalyst not a psychologist (too middle class). And a psychiatrist can give you electrode shock therapy that is just as good as that PseudoScience shock schlock that you’ve been receiving.
And lastly, I look in Marc Jacob’s “darkly romantic direction”. You know, in the eighties, my cousin made that exact same dress for her Barbie doll out of toilet tissue, plastic bubble pop paper and wire mesh ripped from the back screen door. Too bad, Miss Anna Wintour, that she wasn’t invited to the White House to cheer up your fashion sense and right your fashion warp.
