Style Over Substance

I love Vogue, always have ever since I was a little girl. So when I saw this book about American Vogue's editrix on display at Powerbooks...you know the drill. All I can say is, this is one person who worshipped in the shrine of style and devoted her life to fashion (Ms. Wintour had a talent in track and was a fast runner, but quit when she realized that her legs would get bigger and muscular if she kept at it, ie not good for wearing those feminine skirts and dresses!). What was admirable about her was she single-mindedly pursued her dream job (US Vogue Editor-in-Chief) and didn't allow minor setbacks to get in her way. She always kept her eye on the prize. Unfortunately, stepped on a lot of toes, pulled a few hairs, and destroyed the confidence of lots of people just to get to her coveted spot. Suffice it to say, this is a lady with balls. Big, stylish ones at that!

Funny how a bitchy, catty, scheming (an ex-bf asked for her help in buying a designer jacket for his wife. She gallantly chose one for her--a tacky piece with screaming logos guaranteed to catch the eye of those whose money can't buy them class, nothing like the classically elegant ones she favored for herself! gasp!) woman who never was a girl's girl (she was competitive with them, and thus never formed any real friendships with other women) is looked upon to lead the way to how we dress, and how we ought to live our lives. Knowing this about her (shallow with loose morals, but with a great and visionary eye for style), will it stop me from reading Vogue? Haha! I don't think so! I love Vogue for what it stands for, regardless of the personal life of the one whose name is on top of the masthead.