I had to wait longer than usual to get my September issue of Vogue this year, which had only made my anticipation grow even stronger than it was in July. I dreamed of it’s glossy pages, it’s eye catching cover and it’s weight in my shopping bag. Normally it was out in stores right around the first week in August, but when I went to find it I had no such luck. Maybe because it just hadn’t gotten to my central New York location is what I had assumed as it’s spot was vacant in every convenience store. Then, on a trip back from Atlantic City, New Jersey in mid August I was sure it would be at a rest stop. Again, my efforts were thwarted. So to my despair, I went on to school knowing that I had not read it yet, but feeling comforted that I wasn’t alone because I was sure many were feeling the same way. Finally, while school shopping in Columbus, Ohio, a lovely Barnes and Nobles sales clerk overheard my desperation when describing my loss to friends. He said that they hadn’t put them out, and they were sold by inquiry only because the size was too hefty for their lofty shelves. I almost peed my pants as he came out from the back room with an unopened, untouched by man (or so I like to think until he came along) September 2014 issue of Vogue. “The Instagirls!”, it read, “Models of the moment in the clothes of the season,” 856 pages of fall fashion. I wasn’t too thrilled with the cover, just because it looked more like an August issue than September, but I got over it once I noticed that the cover sprawled over 3 extra fold out pages. “I’m okay,” I thought. It took me about a week to get through all of it, to read the words of the most respected and influential designers, photographers, fashion writers, and journalists. I was particularly happy with it’s focus on Paris, and it only kept me dreaming further with it’s gorgeous stills and ad campaigns. To say it was remarkable is an understatement. I can’t imagine saying I’ve truly “lived” until I’ve worn a $30,000 gown in a body of water, but I at least got to picture it. And then the story on Nicolas Ghesqiere, the man who is putting Hedi Silmane and his grunge Saint Laurent line to shame, who brought the genius mini Louis Vuitton trunk clutches, and is changing the face of the fashion house indefinitely, was one for the books. I would say my favorite spread was “Belle Fleur” photographed by David Sims. I’m pretty sure my friend Haley has been rocking the bun on model Caroline Trentini for about 6 years, and this piece is the only reason I can say it’s now considered socially acceptable. One really impressive thing was the return of Guiseppe Zanotti shoes, who got their own show. And I’m sure some will disagree with me, but I have not seen in an insatiably long time Vogue not high lighting Chanel Iman for Chanel Iman but letting her highlight one incredible pair of italian made open toed pumps. Actually do her job, to model something. Just the beauty of these shoes and the movement in the pictures is enough reason to buy the issue. There were some things I could say I didn’t appreciate, a few adds that I felt lacked, and like I said the cover really wasn’t the reason I purchased it. But the thrill of reading it, viewing it, and then experiencing a dream that night of walking around in a pair Alexander McQueen boots is what makes it all worth while. There’s something magical about this magazine book, something that gets you ready to become someone who is a part of a world like that which lies in it’s pages. You grow as it does, every year getting older and wiser, understanding more and it’s relationship with society becomes noticeable. The hilarious but poignant article on marijuana, the artists recalling living in that “moment,” the sheer beauty of it. It’s absolutely worth the wait.
Bootsie 