Some Things Lost, Others Gained.

Imagine an International magazine store that sells absolutely everything from everywhere under the sun. From obscure, brilliant "books" like Paradies 5 (suggested to me in passing by a very sharp fashion editor), to Dressage Today, a must read for anyone with an interest in the art of riding and its greatest trainers and riders,to Vogue magazines in every language, and so on. It is a feast for the eyes and mind. One can get almost every point of view and actually subject them all to one's own litmus test . In the end , one's opinions are more substantiated just by virtue of having placed them against so many other educated and absolutely inane ones. I make regular pilgrimages to one in the Village on west 12th street and Hudson as well as another on East 23rd street between 5th and 6th . They are incredible hotbeds of information and images.

Two things caught my eye last week. One was the cover of British Vogue adorned with an actual model, Lara Stone and the other were a couple of magazines all focused on the fate of the House of Versace and Donatella in particular. Lara Stone, a beautiful young woman was such a refreshing change to the world of weary celebrities who have usurped the place of the cover model. In this instance, one is the Beauty and the latter is more Beastly. As I'm a visual creature first and foremost, I was initially caught by the loveliness of Lara, her gown and the clean, unfussiness of the magazine's cover. It actually exuded a feeling of freshness, even hope. In contrast, Donatella's picture held my eye for totally different reasons. I remembered her looking like a tawdry South Beach Euro tart. Looking at her that day I saw a face that spoke volumes. She actually resembles the Grinch in drag with a platinum weave with extensions. The face, mouth and eyes scream "Grinch". I'm fascinated by all things high and low.

It wasn't until getting home that I realised both characters in both magazines shared the same story: Rehab. It is a tired story for so many of us who are aware of so many who enter and never recover. Places like Promises in Malibu which is the Rehab Spa of choice for the over privileged and over indulged. Very few who enter stay longer than it takes to get a fresh tan and some much needed down time. The concept of a 12-Step program seems a gross imposition on the quality time they've signed up for. This is not about sobriety but more about a good P.R. maneuver and first-class room service.

Lara Stone's story was inspiring in its seeming honesty. I don't pretend to know her, how she feels or what makes her tick. I don't think Alexander Wang has any better sense, despite their best-girlfriend status. That is anathema to a life lived at interminable parties. It would be a bummer to actually face life and death situations, let alone talk about them at length. So Lara's rehab journey struck me for its blunt honesty.

In the article she discussed her fear of the future after modeling. She worried that modeling was her only talent and had no aspirations to act or design. Can you believe it? A model who, for once, looks in the mirror instead of just standing in front of one. She talked about her difficulty to connect with men, basically due to the inequities of the arrangement when one is a beautiful model and the sorts of men who gravitate towards them. Lara mentioned not wanting to end up a desperate addict acting as sex toy to get stoned. Her candor was both unvarnished and gritty. Still, having maintained /saved her career is something a lot of people struggling with addictions of all sorts can look at and draw some strength. Like many who suffer from addictions there are some things lost and others gained. The ability she had to walk into a VIP section of a party and send someone scrambling to bring her a bottle of Vodka seems to have lost its appeal. Starving herself for the camera and runway has also lost its appeal. What a novel approach to this business. My feeling was that this woman actually likes herself. That toxic self loathing so many of us have suffered at different times is the gorilla she seems to be battling and gaining the upper hand.

Donatella has done time in rehab as well. I got the feeling that her experience of addiction was much more harrowing. Multiple substance addictions coupled with huge responsibilities and their accompanying pressures make her experience different. Wife, mother, Designer and head of a global fashion house make for a rather large ticking bomb. Toss pounds and pounds of cocaine into the mix and the chances of something good coming from it all are decidedly slim.
Rehab for Donatella is a thing of the recent past. Her intervention and rehabilitation took place about 5 years ago. The most that anyone or Donatella would share on the subject were her mood swings and inability to effectively steer the company and its ever shifting design message. She seemed to enjoy her private dinner parties alone in her marble bathroom the entire evening as the guests enjoyed another sort of party on their own.

With the announcement of the Versace house having laid off a quarter of its work force and the shuttering of all its Japanese boutiques is a clear signal that somethings do get lost. The restructuring will hopefully come in time to save what was a global giant. It's such a metaphor for the fashion business today, versus, when Gianni Versace was at the helm. Big, brutal business and a society bent on disposable values adds up to a heaping, steaming pile of waste. Perhaps the job is not worth the price of a life.

Ego is as devastating and addictive a drug as any flute of champagne, or bump of coke even if it rests on a diamond and ruby encrusted silver tablespoon.

Desiree Rogers suffers from acute Hubris.

For days now I've been gripped with a gnawing sense of fear and loathing at the thought of our First Family's Social Secretary. Desiree Rogers is too evident, too grasping and too ambitious for me to ignore her any more.

It started with appearances and lengthy stories on her in the Wall Street Journal, Vogue and countless smaller rags, all celebrating her brilliance(MBA from Harvard), accomplishments (heading an oil/power concern in Illinois) and the crowning glory on her pin head of being best girlfriends with Michelle Obama. Her ambitious, power-brokering got her the plumb job of the official Social Secretary to the Obamas. I guess having played a similar role for a utility company makes her uniquely suited. It's her incredible self regard that is her most valuable credential. Desiree is the ultimate example of one who thinks her gas is a luxe scent blended just for her. Well a fart is a fart by any name and she has a cloud that's growing around her daily.

You might think that a tasteless and unwarranted jab, but I have reasons for my low opinion of the White House Social Secretary. Her shameless self promotion is not an asset for the First Family. It looks like they don't know better than to choose a power junkie instead of someone powerful working behind the scenes for them.Perhaps, she got the job with the help of Grandma who was a Voodoo Priestess. I have the feeling that Desiree feels on equal footing with our First Lady. That is a clerical error as I see it. She is not the First Lady. She shows up at the collections as a stand-in for a Michelle Obama. I've always respected Michelle's priorities as being an astute and successful Lawyer, wife, mother and not someone desperate to attend the opening of every tawdry collection and colostomy bag in and out of town. Perhaps out of politeness Michelle delegated those appearances to Desiree in order to have a representative for herself and the White House. It was certainly necessary with the Fashion Industry having anointed the First Lady as the Savior of our industry simply because she wore a string of mid range and low end designers to all sorts of events. Do the math: If a First Lady can meet the Queen of England in Gap and Jason Wu, she's GOT to be a Fashionista!. So the job was taken up with unseemly glee by the secretary (very Eve Harrington in my book) and she's only gotten more and more comfortable with it.

Desiree is photogenic, a handsome woman who's clearly had some very good work done to enhance her loveliness, not that there's anything wrong with a little chopping and sanding. She's mad for clothes and wears many of the greats all the time. She can swing from Carolina Herrera to Calvin to Viktor and Rolf to Jil Sander and back to Oscar de la Rental. Now she can't be buying it because she's changing too often in a day. In the WSJ story there were 4-5 shots of her busy at her job and she managed to change clothes for each and every shot....jewelry too. So I infer that she's a bit of a product placement Pro. I have the uncomfortable feeling she's playing the favor game and getting racks of clothes in the bargain.

" Never a borrower or a lender be."

That is a rule that certainly applies to a person in that position. Desiree can't be bothered with rules. She makes them, she's too busy "BRANDING" the First Family to follow them. That's how she sees her job. I see it as a 2-way street. She arranges the public's access to the First Family, be it literal or virtual. State dinner invitations, events, national and international engagements that cast the magic of their Administration far and wide are all responsibilities that I would expect from her. With that job done you get the satisfaction of serving something greater than yourself and your own ambitions and not private lunches bi-weekly with Anna Wintour and spreads in Vogue for herself and her 18 year old daughter. Not going as a duet to fashion shows and constant mugging for every Instamatic within 100 feet. Not playing the quick change fashion show junkie wearing the clothes of the designer to his/her show like so many other dumb asses in the front rows of too many regrettable shows. You don't see Anna doing it. I forget how much a rookie Des is and then I'm reminded.

So with the appointment of Anna to the President's Arts Council I can't help but think Desiree is behind the scenes waving her twisted wand. Ms. Wintour is vaguely acquainted with the arts, literature, both Fine and Applied, but she's really about Sales and the neutering of a whole industry. What does that have to do with the National Council for the Arts? Why not Toni Morrison, Tabatha from Salon Makeover,Aretha Franklin, who generously serenaded their Inauguration,Aerin Lauder, and let's not forget Wendy Williams. They at least do something besides pose. Hell, I'm sure Oprah or Kathy Griffin are available.What has Sarah Jessica Parker done lately that qualifies her? Hair color and rancid perfume?

If Desiree spent more time behind her desk instead of standing front and center for the cameras, maybe she'd get more done. I don't want to see spreads on what sits on her desk: the Hermes notebooks, one large black one for work and a smaller orange one for personal, fresh flowers everyday, a Presidential stamp on her Styrofoam coffee cup, and on and on. How about a slightly less styled desk where real work happens. Thank god she has some focused assistants that keep her in the job. Someone has to be doing the heavy lifting, but it's not her. How could she when a huge chunk of her time is spent holed up in a suite at the St.Regis waiting for Anna to summon her to some glittering gathering. I could care less about our tax dollars being spent on the big guys doing their thing, but I don't like the idea that I'm paying for this silver -plated wannabe to play dress up. Is it so bad to be a secretary? There are so many out of work secretaries who are better qualified and dying for a chance to actually work for the Leader of the Free World and his Family.

My advice to her is put away those American Spirit cigarettes or whatever it is she's smoking, and pick up that pad and pen and start taking dictation. Good secretaries remind their bosses of commitments they've committed themselves to. She could remind the President that he promised to do something for the gigantic block of Gay voters who helped him get into office and the small businesses who were supposed to get a piece of the pie to help weather this shit storm. Those items keep getting put off for another day. Well with Fashion shows, photo-ops and fittings there just aren't enough hours in the day for Desiree Rogers to do everything.
Her mantra is:"A girl has to take time for herself".... and she does that with real zeal.

Bottega Veneta and Oscar de la Renta drink from the same well.

There's a well in the fairy land of Fashion. It lies in a enchanted dell whose entrance is guarded by trolls and hags. Granted, with the right password the lucky are given admittance. Without that riddle of a password, the unfortunates are barred. The number of pilgrims increases each season in direct relation to the guards , who are now legion. Not everyone gets a ticket to imbibe.

Two who obviously drew from the well, must have done so simultaneously: Oscar de la Cha Cha and Thomas Maier of BottegaVeneta. All I can deduce is that one drank from a 2-fisted beer stein and the other from an etched crystal, Georgian water goblet. Who do you think sipped and who drank heartily? The collections answer the question. The taste and purity of that well water is evident in both, simply because one collection almost mirrors the other. Not everything is similar, but the guts of the collections are similar in silhouette and treatment. What separates them is a freedom of expression in one and an uptight, self consciousness in the other.

Some would say that age plays a part in this. One designer being younger and the other more senior. That's too easy when you put them to the Lagerfeld test. He is categorically considered senior in terms of age. Creatively, he is clearly not trapped by that label. So, with the leadership of Alex Bolen ,CEO son in law and his charming Junior League wife,Eliza Reed Bolen, Oscar's step daughter, age is something that need not apply. They are the fresh blood coursing through the veins of Chez de la Cha Cha.

Shifts, safari suits,dirndls with embroidery, and draping that looked decidedly organic, not fussy, were evident in both collections . I will illustrate this by placing each example side by side to prove my point. Oscar consistently uses a hand that constricts the shape, whereas, Thomas lets the same idea breathe. Ultimately, the consumer decides what works best for her. It's only interesting to me that one collection exudes ease, the cool factor and modernity and the other is matronly and devoid of cool. It's unfortunate in that fashion needs to be about NOW. It must inspire, seduce and weave dreams. Perhaps the fault of one and the success of the other lies in the styling of the collection.

Styling for the runway is as essential as it is for the editorial page of a magazine. Without the right mix and the imagination of a visionary stylist, the clothes are too often earth bound. In seasons past, and we can go all the way back to when Oscar designed Balmain Haute Couture, his stylist of choice was Andre Leon Talley. I remember collections over the past 5-7 years that were some of the very best in this country and the world. Whether Oscar was your cup of tea, the collections had a cohesion that is all but lost for the last two seasons. They appear to drift left and right across a treacherous terrain.There was a symbiotic relationship between Oscar and Andre that created real fireworks on the runway. One show left me in tears, and not in that pathetic, fashion victim, breakdown sort of way. I cried because I felt I'd just seen a collection that answered all the questions and left no stone unturned. My tears were simply because I saw that there really wasn't anything I could say with my collection that would or could say it with any more clarity or artfulness. I was bummed, but I was powerfully impressed. Oscar had Andre by his side and the two together were greater than Oscar alone. Now his collections are styled by Alex White of W magazine. She may be serviceable, but her youth and freshness is not adding anything to the mix. It is a collection that looks like it wants to be one thing when it's hopelessly another. WWD and W may herald that Oscar is on top of the heap, but exactly what is the nature and composition of that heap? His collaboration with Oscar was far from broken , so why did they feel compelled to fix it?

Thomas Maier wins the day and he does it quietly, elegantly and with a minimum of fuss. Whomever styles the presentation, or doesn't, Thomas is spot-on leaving us all sated.

My name is Precious.

Last night I was invited to a screening of Lee Daniel's much anticipated film "Precious". I'd heard it was a big hit at Sundance and was making the rounds at a number of film festivals , but more importantly it was getting the kind of response few films receive due to it's unusual subject and extraordinary cast. Andre Leon Talley had extended the invitation and that alone was in itself not an everyday occurrence. My life is one of observation. I'm not a player, I watch the game. So accepting this invitation was stepping out of my comfort zone.

I googled the film and looked at the trailer over the weekend about 4 or 5 times, simply because it knocked the wind out of me the first time and I kept going back to see what about it had such power to stop me dead in my tracks. More than that, I found my self crying and disturbed each time I watched. The brute force of the the story was something that I couldn't shake and at the same time was afraid to watch. I didn't want to be so uncool that I'd be at a screening seated next to Andre in tears or trying to hide them. I sent him an email and warned him I might not be able to hold it together but was honored by his invitation.

We met early, by accident. I was keyed up with anticipation, knowing that he'd invited two other close friends and was worried that I would be very much out of my element. Getting to the restaurant early seemed like a chance to steel myself for an evening that filled me with second thoughts. My hesitation was that I'd be too emotional and not feel comfortable with 3 people who knew each other well. I knew him casually, but his friends, not at all. Andre was already there, so we sat down and got reacquainted after a long time. We talked about the universality of what we were about to see. The story centers on an impoverished black girl living in an abusive home with a mother that has done everything to kill her, her spirit, and the last shred of hope that flickers like a spark in a gale. I realized that this story was much larger than what happens in that squalid home but that it's about the lives of many people, all of us in one way or another. I also realized that I was afraid to lower my guard and give myself up to what I was about to see, certainly not in the company of people I barely knew and only knew as larger than life characters on a global and social stage. What would be their reactions?

One of the first things Andre said before the others arrived was don't judge people by their appearances or ones perception of them. I realized I do that alot. It's a defense mechanism and one that stems from feeling constantly that I am not good enough. Well this movie was going to turn that whole pointless way of thinking on it's head. Being open to life and experiences , new or uncomfortable is what it's all about. The safety zone is only that; safe and predictable. When Gloria von Thurn und Taxis walked in I was not prepared. I expected a return to the eighties and not a woman who has had many lives since those Go-Go years. She could have been the woman who lives next door. Her eyes said it all. She was warm, natural and crackling with energy and curiosity. But her big brown eyes were a sea of kindness. Being German was also a huge part of her charm. She listens and takes in information. She doesn't take over and control things. Like many Germans and some Europeans, Gloria has a curiosity and fascination with life, cultural differences and similarities that I found immediately engaging . We were all headed to a crash course on one pocket of culture that would raise and answer more questions than I imagined. Star Jones was Andre's other guest who joined us in time to head to the screening. She too was a very sweet and pleasant surprise. Besides being a very visible and successful Black woman in the entertainment industry, she's knowing and anything but naive. I knew when we all headed over together that this was going to be an interesting night.

The film hits like a hammer's blow. There's nothing remotely subtle in it's telling. Precious is a young woman struggling at 16 , still in Junior high school living with a mother on Welfare, a baby already a few years old , a second one on the way and both of them fathered by her father. She's the antithesis of the name Precious at 200 plus pounds with an expression of frustration, anger and fear. Without telling more of the story, because the film is the only way for one to know the story, it's about a person without love, suport, or the smallest shred of a dream to make it to a brighter tomorrow. Every force in her world is doing it's best to kill every last ounce of hope. It's a story that mirrors all of our lives in many ways: overcoming impossible odds, be they inside us or from without; wanting, deserving and needing love and respect to be able to stand alone and find a path through life no matter how fortunate or handicapped we may be. Clareese Precious Jones finds her way with the help of her teacher and welfare agent , both brilliantly played by Paula Patton and Mariah Carey (no make-up and clothes that say TJMaxx). Gabourey Sibide, the actress who is Precious is as staggering as Mo'nique, who plays her mother. Certain scenes between the two and Precious' struggle to survive and take charge of her life and those of her babies is so gut wrenching that I cried again and again along with many others.

It will open in about 2 weeks. You need to see this film. It's message is that we are all a family. We all need each other's support, acknowledgment, understanding , respect and love. Love is the one element that makes it possible for every person to survive and grow. Without that we are lost.

The reception afterwards had some of the usual suspects. Tina Brown led a panel discussion with Lee, Gabourey(Precious) and the Chancellor of schools. Instead of directing the questions to Lee Daniels and the star of the film, allowing them to share how they managed to create such an extraordinarily powerful story, Tina kept asking the School's Chancellor about NY City schools. She was less than interesting and was disappointing all around. We managed to be the first ones to take our seats and somehow, being lost in a conversation that kept breaking down different moments in the story, the last ones to leave. Not for a moment did the evening or the experience we shared slow to silence. We could have sat up all night talking. I, for one, was sad when we said our goodbyes and headed off into the night, each in a different direction.

Alexander McQueen is not of this World.

I've never, in all these years, seen anything quite like this collection. McQueen's Spring 2010 is a tour de force of technique, technology and a laser sharp vision. The fabrics were consistently printed digitally. This method of printing is the portal to the future. I first discovered and bought fabrics with this printing technique from Jakob Schlaepfer of St. Gallen Switzerland and another otherworldly firm, Fabric Frontline of Zurich about 5 years ago. The technique was life like and yet so delicate and nuanced that one was struck dumb by it's possibilities and beauty.

Alexander has taken this technique, together with the mills responsible for it's execution, to unforeseen heights. The effects which they've created are the colors and textures of deep, under sea and reptile life. It's actually difficult to tell if one is looking at amphibious life or life from other star systems. The absolute mystery of the visual in this collection causes one to suspend all attempts at finding references and just give oneself over to a sensory journey with no beginning or foreseeable end. You won't want it to end. I didn't.

This collection has all the elements of his skill, the skill of his brilliant workrooms and together he creates a world that is utterly complete. It isn't an easily accessible one, but it's terrible beauty is at once disturbing and transcendent. I am at a loss of words to acceptably describe what I saw, only that I was moved in a way that was utterly foreign to my taste and experience, and it's something that I'll long remember; a benchmark that many collections in the future will be compared to. The dresses, the cut of the clothes and their precisionfit is juxtaposed with the ultimate design of the shoe. There were no shoes that were developed to this extent. To try to label them as platform shoes does them an unforgivable disservice. These were another species all together.

I must just show images and let you draw your own conclusions. I don't want to spoil it further with my words which, at best, hopelessly stumble in the darkness.

Ungaro: Stop blaming Lindsay Lohan

The skewering that Lindsay Lohan has gotten over the Ungaro collection is so absurdly misplaced and unfair. To pin the blame on her for a collection that has been called a bomb is just complete and utter bullshit. WWD and the Herald Tribune's Suzy Menkes and countless others are hopelessly lost in their self righteous spitefulness. The blame game, the utter ruthlessness of the fashion press to create a typhoon in a tote bag, is the essence of gutter press. This is not to say brilliance happened that day on that catwalk, but neither was it Lindsay who was solely responsible.

Let's back up a second. When it was announced by CEO, Mounir Moufarrige, that Lindsay would act as Artistic Advisor(NOT Director) to Estaban Cortazar, the collection's designer and creative director, he quit. That was the beginning of some very idiotic and sophomoric decisions. He had a wonderful job and increasing success and tossed it away in a fit of childishness.Obviously, Ms. Lohan wouldn't and couldn't design the collection. A suggestion here and there by her surely would have been followed with the approval of Cortazar and a committee of others. With half a brain he should have realized that she was purely a publicity stunt who would run her course in a season or two and the pie would remain all his. Sometimes(all the time), it pays to look farther than your own reflection to see that playing the game gets you more of what you want than if you walk out with nothing.

Cortazar's egotism and immaturity lost him a very good gig. Walking down the runway with Lindsay is not the worst 45 seconds in any one's life. It certainly didn't kill Estrella Archs, Cortazar's replacement. What offends me is that the deaf, dumb and blind press declared the collection a bomb and pinned it all on Lindsay. If it was a bomb, then it bombed because of the company director and the designer in charge. If the decisions made were so heinous they must be placed in the hands where they belong.

Lindsay wasn't there long enough to create a collection or kill one. If she was involved in half a dozen pieces that would be alot. Perhaps, her suggestion for heart motifs which ran through the collection or pasties on the model's breasts was not the most inspired idea. But there was a plethora of T&A all ove rthe runways and this was by no means the most ill-informed stylistic choice. Other snipes referred to ill chosen color combinations. I didn't see them. Every collection has it's Waterloo somewhere in the line-up and there were a few things that didn't add to the presentation, nor were they abominations. So where's the crime?

Estrella had exactly one month to put the collection together. We all know that 3 of those weeks at least had Lindsay firmly planted on U.S. soil or at least solidly sprawled in some U.S., V.I.P. section of a club far, far away from the workrooms of Ungaro. It's just sniping and blame gaming from editors who should be more mature and less self serving. It felt like everyone got together and decided to pan the show the minute it was announced that she would be a part of it.

The collection itself was not earth shattering or particularly bad. It definitely was no better or worse than any of the middling shows that crowded so many New York, Milan, London or Paris runways. The hypocrisy of editors like the phalanx from WWD and the ever annoying Suzy Menkes is just mind numbing. That mile high bang of Menkes, I'm convinced, is trying to hide an ever growing lump she received when a lighting beam landed on her head at a Michael Kors show many years back. That bang/lump seems to have a life all its own. Watching her fawning video on the NY Times blog "On The Runway", where she interviews the Rodarte /Mulleavy sisters at the uber-cool Collette emporium, was the last time I could take her seriously. She was cloying, macabre and sycophantic.Don't stand there and call their work Haute Couture and think that the knowledgeable public is going to tap your keg of Kool-Aid.

So let's consider cutting Lindsay some slack. She's not a designer. She's a decent actress with a ton of problems and no family that cares enough to help her. She could grow into her real art if she'd get out of her own way. The public chasing her to an early grave is a brutal and vicious act. We should all try walking the runway in her mile high platforms.

These photographs are proof that this collection was not so awful. Isn't that what these clueless retailers want? Commercial ,wearable clothes? This looks like it to me.

Paris Vogue suffers a lapse of Taste

What's going on in Carine Roitfeld's head? Has her mind gone the way of hem lengths for this season: short circuited? Maybe she had the idea to ape Italian Vogue's BLACK issue and decided to pay homage with a regrettable spread of her own. Maybe in her rush to shoot she forgot that the model was supposed to be black...you know like Leya Kabeede, or Chanel Iman, or Alek Wek. Maybe she just thought it would be clever and original to just go with a black faced(actually, black bodied) Lara Stone. Where does one draw the line between commerce, art and stupidity?

I bought French Vogue for a much needed change of pace from our homegrown version. I expected to find a different take on what's modern, an aesthetic shifting of gears from first to fifth. What started out as a nice revving of the engine stalled out on page LARA. What appeared at first glance to be a Moorish princess was at closer inspection a white Lara Stone spray painted to look like a Black woman. I thought it was just a momentary lapse of judgment til I turned the page and came upon a whole story of black-faced and black-bodied Lara . Iffy judgment shifted to ferociously bad taste in a Paris minute.

The associations and connotations of black-faced white people is a one way street in reverse to Minstrel entertainers, the days of Jim Crow laws and segregation. It it is not stylish, amusing or creative. Vogue has started a very unpleasant and offensive habit, thanks to Ms. Sozzani and Steven Meisel at Italian Vogue, of celebrating Tokenism and all of it's odious and depressing implications. What irks me the most is I fear they aren't even remotely aware of the offense most women of color will take when they look at these pages.

The first of the "Black Issues" that came out last year was annoying enough. One whole issue dedicated to black models was a sad statement when the rest of the year precious few , if any, were used in the editorial pages. This summer it was down-sized to a spread and not the full issue. They dragged it down to a new low by using Barbie dolls (white featured ones spray-painted brown) instead of Black models. Maybe the only models available were all booked and the shoot had to go on. I think the agency who handled Barbie cut a better deal and the magazine went with a cheaper price.....It's just a matter of economizing in these difficult times. Now French Vogue and it's thoughtless editor along with Steven Klein, who should stick to shooting horses and hosting Madonna, have gone a step further. Fashion seems to be saying that it can no longer afford or be bothered with a social conscience.

I don't want to waste another moment on this issue . It gives it legs and in a backhanded way supports this idiotic myopia that is running helter skelter through the halls of Conde Nast's farther flung offices.

I have done the only responsible thing and lined my litter box with this issue. It's a dirty job but I'm not about to waste perfectly good reads like Horse and Hound or Ebony.