After a few weeks of, admittedly rather unscientific study, I think I can claim that the only reason to cough up the sum required to buy US Vogue, Elle, or Bazaar is the question (to bastardize the bard) of...

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (e.g., risk your iPhone running out of battery mid-air because your flight is delayed and all your fellow travelers are hogging the power outlets)
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles (and, in desperation, buy a copy of one of the aforementioned trio in order to pass the time)

After being trapped in Newark airport with the August issue of Vogue...I'm leaning towards a third option...alternating between blankly staring at a wall and hazarding bizarre guesses as to the lives of my fellow wanderers. An "Age Issue"...again. Sarah Jessica Parker...again. A disturbing number of articles and ads for plastic surgery...alright there was one page celebrating 63 year old Linda Rodin but, apart from that, I found it impossible to walk away from the magazine without the sensation that devoid of laser eyelifts, surgical jawlifts, or earlobe tucks (seriously?) our lives are doomed.

Next trip...despite the additional weight it adds to my (already insanely heavy) bag...I'm packing a book.  Preferably beauty-based...and vintage...from a time when potions and lotions were fine...but you could be beautiful, at any age, without having a "lobelift".

Blogging allows you to fully embrace your quirks...the good...the bad...the frankly bizarre and confusing. As far as the latter...pre-blogging I never fully comprehended my latent passion for coloring books...not that I spend my free time trying to color within the lines or anything like that...but the urge is definitely there. Case in point...the Sneaker CB...a compilation of 100 iconic sneaker designs from 1916 to the present...all waiting to have a little life breathed into them. Something that makes my fingers itch for a little crayon and watercolor action...

Which is why we need a little de-motivational reading...like the chirpily titled "All My Friends Are Dead" by Avery Monsen and Jory John. As their publisher points out..."If you're a dinosaur, all of your friends are dead. If you're a pirate, all of your friends have scurvy. If you're a tree, all of your friends are end tables."

If you're a milk carton...don't even ask...

No matter how heavy my baggage, I always take (at least one) book with me when I travel. This trip I picked a lightweight tome with a heavyweight theme...Norman Mailer's 'The Fight'...at once a sporting book (discussing, as it does, the 1975 World Heavyweight Boxing Championship which took place in Kinshasa, Zaire between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman)...and something deeper...as much a look at Mailer's psyche than those of Ali and Foreman. Beautifully written...it's so easy to become caught up within its pages that I managed to ignore the small child kicking the back of my seat for a few hundred miles.

As this is, for the most part, a fashion blog I'm including a suitable selection from the book...discussing another book, Bantu Philosophy, by a Dutch priest who had worked as a missionary in the Belgian Congo...

"Bantu philosophy, he soon learned, saw humans as forces, not beings. Without putting into words, he had always believed that. It gave a powerful shift to his thoughts. By such logic, men or women were more than the parts of themselves, which is to say more than the result of their heredity and experience. A man was not only what he contained, not only his desires, his memory, and his personality, but also the forces that came to inhabit him at any moment from all things living and dead...

In the presence of a woman who is finely dressed, an African might do more than salute the increase of power that accrues to the woman with her elaborate gown. To his eye, she would also have taken on the force that lives in the gown itself, the kuntu of the gown. That has its own existence. It, too, is a force in the universe of forces. The gown is like the increment in power an actor feels when he enters his role, when he senses the separate existence of the role as it comes up to him, much as if it had been out there waiting for him in the dark. Then, it is as if he takes on some marrow of the forgotten caves. It is why certain actors must act or go mad - they can hardly live without the clarity of that moment when the role returns."

After posting a couple of days ago...regarding vintage style manuals for advice versus modern magazines for the inspirational ensembles contained within...I decided to try and add a little order to the piles of magazines scattered hither and thither around the apartment. They are now (for the most part) corralled into three locations...and stacked by title...for one horribly nerdy moment I was going to arrange them by year and issue...until I realized that it would be far more practical (and less of a pain in the neck down the road) if I just put my favorite issues at the top of each pile. Like the September 2005 issue of L'Officiel...Claudia Schiffer looking kittenish on the cover...and inside...hideously expensive jewelery on thoroughly unconcerned infants...suits and sweaters worthy of a Hitchcock heroine...some very simple, yet thoroughly grown-up little black dresses...and L'Allure Parisienne, an editorial whose pages I find myself coming back to over-and-over again simply because they so perfectly encapsulate that kind of casual-yet-not-casual-running-around-town vibe that, personally, I find so addictive.

On a side note, Jalou (publisher of L'Officiel, Jalouse, muteen, et al) has an online archive featuring all back issues...going back, in the case of L'Officiel, to 1921...which you can browse to your heart's content...for free. Just the thing for those really hot days when you just want to sit beside the air conditioner...

* - today's (very long) quote is by Everette E. Dennis

In general, when I let the moths out of my wallet and hand over the requisite amount for a magazine, it tends to be because of the editorials...articles tend to all too frequently fall under the categories of a) actress X opening up...as she probably did on numerous previous occasions...in an attempt to convince the general public to hand over an additional chunk of change to see her latest movie...or b) helpful hints that are not altogether helpful or require a level of dexterity with make-up or hairbrush that would tend to suggest that you don't need the advice in the first place.

I've found it much more entertaining...and useful too...to collect vintage tomes on style. For, while the fashions themselves may have changed, the advice is generally rather sound. Take, if you will, The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Good Taste which was published in 1958.

With chapters on Fashion...Beauty...Manners...and Diversions (namely Art, Men, Jobs, and Games)...all the basics are covered...and while the paragraphs dealing with nylons, cotton gloves, and corsets should probably be consulted for purely entertainment purposes it's hard to ignore the wisdom behind the words "...it is quite possible to to be unbecomingly dressed even by a master. Know Thy Looks is almost important as 'Know Thyself'. And, too, Know Thy Life. A glamorous evening dress is no use to stay-at-homes or a superb tweed to those who blossom only after dark."

Recently...with summer in full-swing and a few plane trips in my near future...I found myself re-reading the travel section (I've scanned the entire chapter and have linked to larger, readable, images for those of you who are either bored at work or share my enthusiasm for vintage books)...

...and I kept coming back to the line "Many of the heavier all-wool jersey weaves make tailored suits and top-coats which do not crease, yet are as easy to lounge or sleep in as a shawl." Riveting stuff (as I'm sure you'll agree) and...while I may not be in the market for a tailored suit...I could recognize that I was lacking something in the easy-to-lounge-or-sleep-in-yet-not-completely-hideous-and-able-at-a-pinch-to-be-worn-to-work department. A deficit that I'm hoping will be rectified courtesy of Rogan's draped sweatshirt wrap cardigan...

Lord Byron once said, “It was one of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of my life to feel that I was no longer a boy. From that moment I began to grow old in my own esteem”. Personally I’ve long maintained that a childish love of cartoons can stay the signs of aging in a far superior manner to the daily application of SPF15 (though the effects are slightly mitigated when you are discovered chortling...by a client...in an airport lounge...to the antics of Scooby Doo).

Spanish Elle was obviously in a similarly Peter Pan frame of mind for their April issue. For contained within its pages, thanks to freelance Disney artist Ulrich Schröder, are Karl Lagerfeld, John Galliano, Marc Jacobs, John Paul Gaultier, Dolce & Gabbana, Donnatella Versace, and others...all, in comic form. Lagerfeld manages to get past the three little pigs with nary a huff or a puff, John Galliano enchants Captain Hook and Peter Pan, and Alber Elbaz creates a ruffled, red ensemble for an obviously enchanted Minnie Mouse.


There may not be a fountain of youth but there may potentially be a ‘mildly regressive comic strip of fewer grey hairs and the occasional missing wrinkle”.

Even though I have been in magazine curmudgeon mode for some time now...where I alternate between bitching about the price of European imports and the lack of content therein...I found myself standing by the magazine rack in Borders (mainly, I'll admit because Mr. Heb had dragged me in to look at the sale tables). I had a cursory flip through Lula #9 (Fall/Winter 2009...ridiculously late, I know, but the November issue of l'Officiel was close by...time, for mags crossing the Atlantic, is relative)...and was bludgeoned into magazine buying submission by the quality of the editorials inside.

The only downside? Of the two available issues, one was (quite literally) falling to pieces...and the cover on the second looked like it had been used to fend off attackers. In days gone by I would have left them both on the shelf and gone to another bookstore...but so many stores have closed recently there's no certainty of getting your hands on anything more exotic than US Vogue. Feeling like I should know better I ended up at the counter, wallet in hand...and jokingly asked the (very nice) man behind the counter if there were any slightly less abused issues in the back of the store..."No", he said, "but I'll take 20% off this one". Faith in mankind restored and eye candy to enjoy while I sit next to the hissing radiator...the year is going on a (admittedly rather low) high spot.

My list of "Sunday morning virtual newspapers/magazines to browse through while armed with a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry jam laden toast" has increased by one...which means the situation is getting dire...a few more entries and I'm still going to be loafing around reading by the time lunch rolls around.

However, having picked up an issue of the French version of Grazia on my travels, I couldn't resist taking a peek at their website...and now I'm hooked...a spattering of "fashion candy"...outfits, shopping, and the ilk...and one of the creepiest fashion week streetstyle pictures I've come across in many a day...displaying, quite clearly, that for every tasteful piece of leopard print standing around looking chic its shiny, over-the-top, nemesis is lurking in the shadows waiting to bludgeon it senseless...

I came across the following as I clicked through Vogue's Filipa Fino's Editor's Choice picks on Style.com...a dress from The Row to go gardening in (and based on the accompanying image we're not talking about re-potting a cactus...this is real, soil, sweat, and hard labor stuff)...this is why I don't read American Vogue...

What a pathetic consumer I turned out to be...my first concern...when I heard that Prada had opened a new "concept" store in Paris...based on Guillaume Apollinaire’s poem, 'Le Pont Mirabeau'...was not "ooh, I wonder if any special goodies were created for this"...nope, instead I sat around wondering how the poem had been brought to life (courtesy of bricks, mortar, and a lavish decorating budget)...

Beneath Pont Mirabeau there flows the Seine and so our loves. How much must I again recall that joy will ever follow pain? The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. Hand in hand and resting face to face through bridging arms we watch the waters race, the waves so weary in their endless chase. The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. Love goes on and like the water's flow it goes away. Life continues, slow it seems, but hope is ever violent though. The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. There pass the days and pass the weeks and then that time is past and love won't come again. Beneath Pont Mirabeau there flows the Seine.

To be honest, at least from pictures, I think this is one of those ideas that sounded better than it actually turned out...this looks to be more of an homage to the bridge itself (the first in the city to be built from metal)...than a physical manifestation of the spirit of lost love present in the poem...unless, that is, the "joy will ever follow pain" is the joy that you will feel from owning your purchase after the pain of handing over the cash to pay for it.

Amongst my daily online reads lurks the "guilty pleasure"...the heady mix of Brit-based fashion, gossip, and beauty that is Grazia...or, as I think of it, the perfect way to wake up (when paired with a cup of coffee).

The only troublesome part of this...apart from Mr. Heb mocking my choice of reading material (which is unfair as I work my way over to the "proper" news websites once my brain has decided to greet the day)...is that I find myself ooh-ing and ah-ing over items which will never find their way over to this side of the pond. Items like...the denim skirt on the right. Part of a styling story it caught my eye...the dark-but-not-too-dark lightweight denim...the length...the not-too-loose-not-too-tight style...and, from the Gap, so obviously not mind-blowingly expensive. All well and good until my brain kicked into gear and I remembered that US Gap...despite all of this "European design editions" talk...doesn't sell a lot of the items that are in its UK stores. Which goes to show that Euripides was right...

As I stood in line at the supermarket I noticed Gwen Stefani's face staring up at me from the July cover of US Elle (okay, I noticed "Good" versus "Evil"...ie a pack of gum and a Twix bar...staring up at me first...but my eye made it over to Gwen eventually). And there...just to the left of her Dennis-the-Menace-meets-high-fashion sweater...were the words "Shopping's Back!...275 of Fall's Must-Haves...Get Them First!"

Now there was a long-ish line behind me so I didn't have time to delve into the exact nature of all these items that I'm supposed to do battle for so that I can "Get Them First!"...though, I have to admit, even if the aisle had been empty I probably wouldn't have looked as I was still musing on the the announcement that "Shopping's Back!"

From a personal standpoint I can say that it never completely went away...I cut back...I waged mental battles about whether skirt A was better value (worked with more items currently in my closet, well made, had some promise of longevity) than skirt B...I became a frugal version of myself and searched for online coupons like a leprechaun sliding down rainbows...but I never actually stopped shopping.

But, if I had, I know that it would take a lot more than an exhortation on the cover of Elle to get me handing over my credit card again. I get it...designers are going out of business...stores aren't making any sales (or, to be precise, are having to put things on sale in order for them to sell)...things need to take a positive swing before they get worse...but maybe a couple of the lessons learned from this recession should be competitive pricing for well made goods (no over-priced, shoddy items marked up because they are "designer") and that, as a result of having to be more selective, consumers are now more savvy about being marketed to...a clarion cry of "Buy this!...Now!" simply won't work anymore.

For quite a while now I've been on a sort of magazine diet...the ever-rising cost (especially of those from distant shores)...and space concerns (i.e. the piles of 'zines rising from the floor like stalagmites)...didn't stack up (sorry, bad pun) against the actual content...I just didn't need to read another article on the latest cure for cellulite...and the majority of editorials felt a little...stale.

But then...yesterday...the craving came upon me. I wanted a magazine...a French magazine...preferably Jalouse or l'Officiel. I stopped by my local Barnes & Noble (okay, not actually my "local" B&N because the one down the street closed last winter...let's just say the closest B&N within a 2 mile radius) and found...

The April issues...of both.

I went to the Service Desk...there was no one there...I went to the register...

"Can you let me know when you'll be getting the May (or, heaven forbid, June/July) issues in please?"

There was a pause...then a sigh...then a request for each magazine title to be spelled (thrice)...then another sigh...then...

"We don't carry l'Officiel any more. We might have the May issue of Jalouse in the store room...oh, wait...no, we don't."

I walked away feeling discontented (what kind of store has no product?) and guilty (if I'd been buying these magazines on a regular basis perhaps they wouldn't have had to stop stocking them). And still craving a little French 'zine action. I decided to look into subscriptions...visited Jalou's website...and stumbled upon their archives...l'Officiel, Jalouse, muteen, La Revue des Montres...dating as far back as 1921...and all available electronically...and free. Even May's issue was there in glorious, click-able, Technicolor.

The guilt is still there, though it's been assuaged slightly...

Online video clips are a harsh mistress...for every fond memory that can be re-lived courtesy of YouTube (and if you're even a semi-regular reader you'll know that I'm a glutton for whatever cheesy vintage commercials or childhood cartoons I can get my hands on)...there are the "if this were a decade or two ago I'd say what a waste of film but now I have to say what a waste of memory" clips.

Like "How to dress: The forever bag" on The Guardian's website...a video in which (and I quote) "Jess Cartner-Morley, the Guardian's fashion editor, guides you through the latest trends. This week: cripplingly expensive handbags". Except...she doesn't...it's about 60 seconds of coverage on the merits of Chanel's 2.55 bag...a quick look at a knock-off Burberry trench from Banana Republic...and the admonition that, if you do spend the money on the 2.55, you'd better wear the strap as long as possible or you will be the naff-est person ever to live in naff-town.

All of which leaves the viewer with the realization that they've just watched a video clip that makes even Charley the killjoy cat (and 1970's Public Information cartoon character) seem riotously entertaining...

Of all the things that I associate with the 80's supermodels and United Colors of Benetton have to be towards the top of the list...which is probably why I am jumping for joy over the October cover of Vogue Paris...as, deep in the recesses of my closet, I actually have a Benetton sweater remarkably similar to this one (though I've yet to look anywhere near as good as Christy Turlington when I'm wearing it...it always seems to scream "rustic preppy" when I put it on). Despite my happiness there does seem to be a bit of a "super" backlash at the moment; on various forums I keep reading how fed up people are with their reappearance. Yet, much as I agree that new models need to be given "their chance", the supers do still have an appeal. They are, as they always were, women...something to aspire to...which, however much you may envy their svelteness is difficult to say about some of the current crop of very young models. But what do you think? Are you enjoying the return of the super or do you think they have outstayed their welcome?

Carine Roitfeld musing on the secret of her success in an article on The Times' website...

“I’ve been with the same person for more than 25 years, my kids are working and not totally crazy, my skirts are not too short, and though I am very serious, I try not to take myself seriously. If there is a secret to me, this is the trick.”

Remove the part about children (I am not, and will never be, a progenitor) and I think she may be onto something...

As I downloaded yet another scanned page from an editorial in a search for some autumnal inspiration...this time Carla Bruni looking very tousled in a trench from the September issue of Vanity Fair...I realized that I hardly ever actually buy fashion magazines anymore. Not that it's a conscious decision, you understand...I don't have a specific agenda to save money or trees (though the cost of some foreign magazines is becoming disturbing)...it's more that as I stand in Barnes and Noble, flipping through the pages of that month's offerings, I rarely seem to be able to find a magazine that has enough interesting content to make the purchase worthwhile.

I can't decide if magazines truly are a little lacklustre at the moment or I'm living proof that the aphorism that "there's no such thing as a new idea" is true and I've bought so many 'zines in years gone by that I am now essentially reading regurgitated themes and advice. All I know is that, thanks to forums like The Fashion Spot where kindly souls scan editorials from magazines, there's no real necessity for me to buy...though a part of me misses the excitement of curling up on a Sunday afternoon with a crisp, new magazine...

I tend to dislike issues of magazines that try to inform their readers what to wear at age 30...or 40...or 50... The idea that personal style can be reduced down to a calculation of what is deemed appropriate based on your age group is ludicrous, and exceedingly dated. The latest incarnation of this type of editorial (and the one that started this rant) appears in the August issue of US Vogue...the "age" issue...with editorials for each decade from the 20's to the 50's based upon the personal look of one of Vogue's stylists (though there's a bit of bait-and-switch going on as Tabitha Simmons who is the inspiration for the "20's" images is actually in her late thirties).

Apart from the suggestions for women in their fifties, which are so depressingly dull that it gives one very little to look forward to, the overwhelming impression that the reader gets is one of confusion...without the accompanying numerical indicators it would be difficult to decide which picture falls under which age group. But, if this is the case, why categorize them this way in the first place? Surely the very fact that it is difficult to look at them and say "this is the skirt that Vogue says should be worn by a 42 year old woman" shows how completely unnecessary this type of article is...

* today's quote, for those of you who are curious, is by Aldous Huxley...unfortunately Blogger has a limitation on title length which I often feel the urge to break.

With no vacation plans on the horizon I found myself drooling over the Tokyo Rose editorial in the summer issue of 10 magazine. Not necessarily for the clothes...Marc Jacobs' deconstructed dresses not exactly being my cup of sake (though I wouldn't say no to the Anna Sui top and skirt above)...more for the general ambiance of the shots. A slightly surreal vacation, with suitably twisted sightseeing outfits, sounds fun right about now...and Tokyo is on my "one of these days I'm going to get on a plane and go there" list...but until that happens I will live vicariously through the pages of a magazine.