|My late, open letter to Vogue
||[Oct. 9th, 2012|10:28 pm]
It took me awhile to write this, because really, I was gobsmacked.|
But here it is, the reason I'm all done with Vogue.
I may not ever have the money to buy high fashion (or really, new anything), but I do love following the fancy fripperies. So every year, I buy my September issue of Vogue. Sure, it's gotten to be quite a brick, and yes, InStyle is a much more reliable buy for what's actually happening in the world of fashion, but it's the tradition and indulgence of the thing. So I bought my September issue. 916 pages, and most of them are ads, of course. I did think it was interesting that by about the 300th page of ads (all before original content), they'd pretty much run out of designer ads and were reduced to "Buy fashions at KMart!", but it's kind of a telling look at the times, whatever.
Ah, page 440. Finally original content...a story by Ann Patchett about how her dog just died. I love dogs, I do, but I don't love being triggered by dog death unexpectedly, but ok, she loves her dog too, I understand. It did make me chuckle when, with no sense of irony, she mentions that a man told her the story of his dog's death and she didn't want to hear it. And then we got to the end of the story. Where she tells how she REALLY acquired her dog all those years ago. She always told people she'd found her in the park, but here's what really happened. Someone brought her for adoption to a Terrier Appreciation Day. Ann said she'd think about it and went off to lunch. When she came back, the dog had found a new owner, but Ann manipulated the dog back. FROM A YOUNG DEAF GIRL! Who cried as Ann left with her dog.
Folks who follow fashion are frequently stereotyped as entitled and self-involved. So...kudos to you, Ann, for taking it even further!?! To quote a favorite Fandomwank comment, "We're having our own Douchefest right here, and you're the douche of honor."
May I suggest W magazine instead? Much smaller, and the photography in September's issue was truly inspired.