Written by Lesa Crowell
Depending on the U.S. Postal Service, my world stops around the 22nd of August. Not because the kids are back in school, but the Fall Fashion issue of Vogue magazine is delivered to my mailbox.
My home could slide off the hill. Elvis could rise from the dead. Even my children know that only unconsciousness, massive bleeding or a missing appendage will keep me from devouring the pages of every would-be fashionista’s bible.
My history with Vogue is a long and loving one going all the way back to high school.
My friends and I would pour over every page, picture and advertisement. We did the exercises guaranteed to increase our bust line, and we knew that nothing came between Brooke Shields and her Calvin’s.
We wished we were 6 feet tall like the models that graced the covers. You remember models don’t you? Women that aren’t actresses promoting their upcoming movies, TV shows, or agendas. I really don’t care to see actresses on the cover Vogue. Actresses being on Vanity Fair. I think that title suits them better, because if you take away an actress’ stylist, they are far from Vogue.
The most important and highly-awaited issue would always be September Fall Fashion issue. You waited to see who made the cover. You drooled over the clothes and you reeked from the perfume samples. It would be passed around and often confiscated by a teacher or the guys in study hall. Not because they were interested in fashion, but because of the artistic nudity provided by the genius of Herb Ritts, Annie Leibovitz and Richard Avedon.
I have an entire library of September Vogues. It is neat to go through them every so often and see how fashion changes and recycles itself. Last year it was all Bohemian chic with cardigans, beaded necklaces, cropped pants and velvet. Cowboy boots were back, which made me very happy because I wear the same pair of boots that are 22 years old and are just now getting broken in.
This year it is all about BIG bags, leggings, (i’m not kidding. Think 80’s updated) platform shoes, lots of plaid, and a touch of masculinity with shades of gray everywhere.
The September issue of Vogue is more than just beautiful models wearing unbelievable clothing, ins and outs, and smart interviews. It can be employed as a valuable teaching aide.
Just last year I used it to teach my two favorite fashion proteges, Katie and Harley, an alternative version of the ABC’s. Forget about a being for Apple! A is for Armani. B is for Balenciaga. And my personal favorites C and D, Christian Dior.
I would love to see Sesame Street do a version of that. I can see it now. “Sesame Street is brought to you today by the letter G as in Gucci and the number 5 like Chanel.
The September issue can also be used as a workout aid, since it usually ways in around three pounds.
Several summers ago, I was accused by a certain fashion-impaired in-law of being rude as I lay under a pool umbrella, soaking in the fall trends. I told the in-law that his was a sacred and special time for me being that I had just received the all-important September issue, and I apologized for my unintentional rudeness.
To my horror, she asked what was so special about that.
How does one explain to a non-Voguer how special that issue actually is? It’s like explaining to a Pittsburg Steeler fan that the Dallas Cowboys really are America’s team.
I don’t know how to explain it, except it is special, brilliant and beautiful, and that my friend is always in style.
Confessions of a true ‘fashionista'
Written by Lesa Crowell