Late last night, Bloomberg posted a story reporting that Anna Wintour was on Barack Obama's shortlist to be the American envoy to either France or the UK. The British-born Vogue editor was one of the President's top 10 fundraisers this election season, bundling over $500,000 in donations for him. (According to Bloomberg, she's competing against another major bundler, Matthew Barzun, Obama's reelection campaign finance chairman.)
To be clear, this isn't the first time rumors have emerged about a possible Anna Wintour ambassadorship. Similar claims were denied earlier this year.
And although Bloomberg News has two sources who confirm that Obama's considering Wintour for a diplomatic post, a spokesperson for Vogue commented, "[Wintour's] very happy with her current job."
Still, the possibility that dear Anna will leave her longtime post at the helm of fashion's bible has me in a tizzy. Next you're going to tell me that the glaciers are receding and no one in the world actually cares about my problems. Can't compute.
Trying to imagine an Anna ambassadorship is like trying to imagine the next Macbook Pro. I live in New York, I can't even see the stars — how do you expect me to predict the future from them?
Having turned down Michael Bloomberg's request to run for mayor of New York City (and America's request to run for President again in 2016), Hillary Clinton will become editor of Vogue instead. Girls across America will get really into brightly-colored pantsuits and start eating bread again.
All of our documentarians will move to England so they can stand outside the U.S. embassy in London all day, trying to get a shot of Anna Wintour walking to her armored Town Car. When she finally grants interviews, she refuses to talk about her relationship with Grace Coddington — "Irrelevant!" — and tries to persuade the filmmakers to make movies about how the challenges faced by immigrants in the U.K. and U.S. relate to late-stage capitalism.
The video embedded below stars Kate Bosworth, a long shimmery holiday gown she designed in collaboration with Topshop, and the Christmas standard, "Winter Wonderland."
According to WWD, Topshop is billing the clip as its first-ever movie, which falsely suggests that the video either tells a story or evokes emotion. The only thing I felt while watching this was boredom, and I don't think that was the intended effect. There's no story: there's just a woman standing on a stage, singing. The camera revolves around her. Some people look on. Then, some snow falls, even though the video is set indoors. Yes, that's the climax: fake weather.
Topshop will make the song available through iTunes, so you can download it if you believe Kate Bosworth deserves to have a singing career. Also, this "film" is only a tiny part of a multi-platform campaign, so you might as well just lie down now and wait for the stampede.
There’s a difference between clothing that is sexy in the way that a powerful Amazonian warrior is sexy and clothing that is sexy in the way that flesh is sexy. Since this is 21st Century Australia and not Ancient Greece, it’s normally the latter kind of sensuality we see on the runways of MBFWA or L'Oreal Melbourne Fashion Festival, which is why Lady Gaga-approved designer Phoenix Keating is causing such a stir.
His latest collection, Autumn 2013’s ‘Androdameia’ takes its name from an Amazonian warrior of Greek Mythology whose name literally translates to ‘The Subduer of Men’. 21-year-old Keating has taken the essence of this woman and brought her into the modern world via tailoring sharper than a hunting knife and a careful mish-mash of sumptuous fabrics. Heavy leathers and wools sit alongside sheer silks and a transparent plastic that definitely didn’t exist in the 8th Century BC, with gold trimmings splashed on by hand to echo a raw and imperfect military brocade.
Keating’s own weapons of choice are a needle, thread, and the humble pencil, which he wields with the skill of a designer twice his age. Immaculate tailoring accentuates the body with pleats and corseted waists to prove power dressing is more exciting than just amped-up shoulders.
The future of Australian fashion just got a lot more promising.
A few days ago, publicist Tara Solomon Instagrammed the picture below, breaking the news that Jessica Chastain had (as our British friends say) nabbed (all?) four covers of W's January Issue. (h/t TFS Forums)
I have a problem with something here, as usual.
The accompanying caption on the top cover in the picture below reads, "Jessica Chastain: Hollywood's It Actress Plays Muse to Artist Mickalene Thomas." Thomas has long been an art world star (hers was the first official portrait of Michelle Obama), but she's been having a particularly moment-y moment at the moment, due to a solo show at the Brooklyn Museum.
A question for everyone involved: Why is an artist famous for her complicated representations of black female sexuality making pretty pictures of a white starlet for a fashion magazine published by Conde Nast?
I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around why, when Thomas' entire career has been (I think) exclusively about representations of black women, she and W didn't seize the opportunity to elaborate on the themes of her work by photographing a black actress. Many people criticize the fashion industry for perpetuating a homogenized (young, white, thin) standard of beauty which excludes many different kinds of people, including racial minorities. It's a real issue, everyone knows it. There was an opening here to address it* in a way that could have been interesting and provocative, consistent with the artist's body of work, and appropriate to W. Instead, the image above, though pretty, looks like a flattened, defanged version of Thomas' most iconic pieces. That sucks.
*Just a disclaimer: Maybe they somehow did it in a way that's not coming across in the Instagram picture. I've only seen the image included here, so the final product and packaging might communicate something else. Maybe.
The most glamorous figure of our time, Kate Middleton, was admitted to King Edward VII Hospital in London today due to a glamorous case of morning sickness. (How very. Now I want to vomit, too.) Yes, she's having a baby. Yes, it's been confirmed, so steel yourself for the next episode of Kate Middleton's Life, brought to you by every media property everywhere, ever. The world will soon be nothing but glow and maternity wear.
Okay, here you go: Representatives of the palace confirm that the Duchess is in the “very early stages” of her pregnancy, so she's going to spend a couple days hanging out at the hospital being nutritioned and hydrated before returning home to Clarence House, where she'll require even.more.rest. Please tell me that every woman that's ever had a baby is rolling her eyes right now?
Since the British Parliament passed a law changing the guidelines for succession (gender is no longer a factor, how progressive!), Kate's baby will one day rule England, regardless of sex.
I feel sorry for Kate Middleton. Sure, she married a Prince, so she did consent to a private life turned out for public consumption (televised weddings might seem commonplace by this point, but I still think they're weird and gross), but being a vessel for the future ruler of England sounds extremely unfun, practically a Rosemary's Baby situation. I would lose my mind. I guess that's one of the infinite reasons I'm not a princess.
All my misgivings aside, I'm sure she and Prince William are very happy. Congratulations!!