Good morning, Friday. I usually hit you with a fiver on Fridays, but listen up- after a week of feeling great defeat and wondering where my inspiration would come from and if it ever would again, last night's amazing premiere of "In Vogue: The Editor's Eye" socked it to me RIGHT. To say that Vogue has been a huge part of my life and DNA would be a gross understatement. I've told you all a million times that as a young girl in Philadelphia, my dreams were very much Vogue inspired, dappled with some old school Details Magazine, WWD, and the Village Voice to boot. But Vogue, VOGUE. I think Vogue taught me to see. And of course, how to dress.
The documentary traces Vogue throughout its 120-year history, and watching editor after editor come on and talk about their roles and experiences there had me near faint about a hundred times. There's Polly Mellen (in a hopefully ironic Juicy sweatsuit at home) talking about a snake kissing the ear of Nastassja Kinski, Carlyne Cerf ranting on about how much she loves, in heavily and bullet laced French English "the street, street, street". And there's Tonne Goodman championing American chic in a sea of British editors. Speaking of which, obviously Anna is up in the cut, but few can touch the genius of Grace Coddington, whose insanely fantastical brain is one of the best in fashion and beyond. The dark horse for me was Phyllis Posnick, whose instincts are sort of bananas. Her shoots with Irving Penn are some of the most beautiful photographs of all time, and her eye for details like finding the perfect bee to sting those tangerine lips are just beyond. And Camilla Nickerson's cheekbones could cut freaking glass. She is sooo chic.
You have to understand that as a producer all of these years, the sheer will of these amazing women is mind boggling. I am a huge fan of people that don't back down from what they want, what is aesthetically perfection, and what their point of view means to them. I am someone that has often almost fallen down dead in pursuit of the perfect photographer, illustrator, or prop builder for a project, because I can't stand it otherwise. And that's what I love about fashion and Vogue in particular- there's no compromising when it comes to creating a fantasy, a narrative, a take on where culture is headed. When Michaela wore Lacroix couture with jeans on Anna's first cover, the world changed. For me, anyway. And let's not even talk about producing shoots before there was Google, or digital photography, or retouching. YOU GOT WHAT YOU GOT so it had to be perfect. And there was no click of the mouse research to find a camel for a shoot, you just had to find one. On your bloody own. That certainly made life more interesting.
And when Polly Mellen (who Avedon once famously said sprung from the rib of Vreeland) talks about shooting Lisa Taylor and bevy of beauties in a bathhouse with Helmut Newton, you know here ability to shake things up and scare the shit out of people was second to none. This photo is from that shoot and remains one of my favorite fashion photos of all time. It was so suggestive, so provocative, so come hither at the time, and really, it still is. And that dress? I'd still wear the shit out of that today. Rachel Zoe owes this shoot a huge thank you as her whole 70s glam thing is taken directly from it. My fav quote from last night was when Polly was recalling a conversation with Mrs. Vreeland about how nobody wanted to work with her after five weeks in the Orient with Avedon and how she felt like she had alienated everyone with her fascist perfectionism to which DV said, "Polly, who needs friends? Get on with it". And get on with it, she did.
There were panthers, camels, sumo wrestlers and all kinds of insanity to add to the brilliance. And as I watched and savored each second of the documentary, I realized this- I will always have fashion and its ability to inspire, transform, and push when there seems to be little else. I can always muster up excitement for a good old Polly Mellen story (my friend John was texting me that he needed oxygen during her appearance) and I can always always always talk about fashion, look at it, touch it, be it. I feel lucky that something touches me as much as style and fashion do, and when I'm feeling a bit blue, I can always turn to Vogue in my time of need to take me somewhere else, or bring me back to who I am. Thanks for all the memories, Vogue. You're the best.
Oh and Linda Evangelista's cameo is too much to take. I live for her- always my favorite. Strangely absent was Kate Moss, but including everything that Vogue has done would be impossible- how gorgeous is this Lindbergh photo of the supers, ps? So amazing. I also worship at the altar of Jade Hobson, who got Liz Taylor to pose without hairspray and witnessed the young love of Patti and Keith. Too. Much.
All I know is every reference and mention was familiar to me, but somehow they never get old. And as I sit here and muddle through a million pieces of paperwork and process and layer to produce three back to back shoots, I'll be thinking of Polly and Carlyne and Grace and all the rest and somehow, their gumption will get me through. Thank goodness for fashion for helping me to see, and inspiring my often unrelenting point-of-view. And to Vogue for always, in the words of Anna Wintour, always looking forward and never back. Without you, I'm really nothing.
And that's what's up this fashion forward Friday in the 212. Have a chic and inspired weekend. Let's hear it for the tastemakers and their unwavering devotion to creativity, culture, and DNA driven style.XO