Tatiana, our favorite anonymous fashion model, has got her long-fingered, well-manicured hands on the not-so-svelte September issues of our "favorite" ladymags. One day after digging into that horrendous Philip Nobel piece, Tatiana trains her eye on the fashion editorials in the newest issue of Elle...and gets annoyed by the expensive shit and overplayed poses.
Reading a September ladymag is sort of like picking up a Russian novel. Fall's perennial Biggest Issues Ever each weigh more than a laptop, and boast a recurring cast of characters whose minute shifts in fortune are as fascinating to the interested observer as any copy of Dead Souls. But with the added bonus of the inevitable Photoshop disasters! Join me, your intrepid Anonymous Model, after the jump as I critique the fashion spreads and campaigns immortalized in the 636 fascinating pages of the latest Elle magazine.
Elle adds six (6!) whole stories to the fashion discourse this season. Seven (7!) if you count the spread where the posing comes courtesy of a French singer I've never heard of who tends to lose her neck in photos - which I, as a model who objects to the idea that any old spackled-up five-foot-nothing permabronzed celebutard who thinks symmetrical features parlay into magnetism can do what I do, do not.
Eleven pages purport to illustrate ten archetypal New! Fall! Trends! - wanna be a Rocker? You will need this thing called a leather jacket - and nine images explore the supposed manifest accord between the "architectural" mood of the coming season and the pyramids at Giza. (No, really.) Hana Soupukova jumps around in ten pages spliced in directly from September, 1988, and then there's an eight-look fellatio of Giorgio Armani. Involving silver Hammer pants and slippers. Stephanie Seymour lends her magnificent schnoz to the shilling of denim and a $970 belt, and the obligatory accessories shoot is carried off with such aplomb by the sublimely beautiful Alison Nix that I actually don't think I've got any snark to spread on that account.
The my-wrist-is-double-jointed inverted-akimbo pose is foundational to any model's repertoire. Also helpful is the "Huh?" skittery-eyed face. You don't know if she's angry or about to burst into tears!
The broken-doll lean. Very Daryl Hannah in Blade Runner. Things to keep in mind: The red eyeshadow-black-eyeliner and silver lipstick combo on Mia Rosing probably took a half an hour to apply. And Moesha Lewis's eyelids appear to be covered in pulverized Reynolds Wrap. Given the drastic hair and makeup changes in this edit, I have a feeling this was one of those interminable 12-hour stir-crazy studio days where your face feels scraped down to its pores by the fifth trip to the stylist's chair. Upon which point you realize that it's already lunch, and you're only on Look Four, and you had just better buck up and take deep breaths and sip water through a straw because things are going to get worse before they get better.
Mia! We just saw you prove you could turn your arms around in their sockets. No need to belabor the point; I understand those long hours in a white box can be a little addling, but repeating poses within the same editorial just makes us models look dumb. And memory-impaired.
All right, by the third repetition, I'm starting to get the sense that the angry-hands-on-hips-shoulder-thrust move was something the photographer asked you to do. I'm sorry fashion is so boring. (Also: Holy crap those false lashes must've sucked to take off but if your booker knows what's what at least this pic will be in your book. Which will totally almost make up for the fact that you probably got a hundred bucks plus lunch for your day's labors!)
May the makeup artist who did this never work again.
No, I do not understand this crotch gusset, either. Or why a string of busted Christmas tree globes makes a suitable necklace.
And so we come to the Armani spread. To attempt to justify this effervescent froth of advertiser-pandering, the editorial is interrupted by a one-page essay by Amanda Marshall ("We all know Armani world...It's sleek and tonal, functional and dramatic, languid and glamorously noir...") that partly explains Armani's role in making Milan the fashion capitol it is today. Which curiously doesn't explain why this story was shot...in Venice!
Also unexplained is why, when the most striking item pictured on this page is the pair of weird and heavy-looking lens-less eyeglasses Victoria Wallace is wearing, they are the only item not listed in the credits. Filigree'd butterfly eyewear of indeterminable provenance is so hot this season.
Seriously, making our girl pose in front of the Centro Salute Mentale is just unkind. Especially after that supremely unkind red-eyed, spread-legged, flash-washed shot in the purple dress.
And now we come to my new favorite model, Alison Nix! It's hard to make accessories look cool without being cheesy, trite, or fake. I bet her forearm was covered in nasty red pinchmarks from all the bangles and watches that must have weighed a ton. But you'd never know it to look at those clear blue eyes! They say, Buy this ridiculously small plaid purse! And she's so heartstoppingly lovely, I, who ought to be inured to every machination of fashion marketing, almost want that purse. That purse that costs more than my rent. (On second thoughts, fuck you and your need-manufacturing, Alison!)
All is forgiven. Wow. Just wow. The stylist totally cheated that watch around to an unholy-unnatural angle for the benefit of the shot, but you pull it off in that "What? I always wear my watch at a convenient angle for passing photographers" nonchalant supermodelish way. Along with horizontal striped tights, a bag that looks like it grew barnacles, and a frankly ridiculous turquoise and orange pheasant feather hat. Which collection of absurd elements would look stupid on most people - and most models! - but somehow, upon seeing this image, all I want to do is stare at it long enough for it to imprint on my retinas. You are a vision, Ms. Nix. And a helluva magazine closer.Earlier: September Glamour Actually Makes Fashion Fun - And Freckled Elle Writer's Ex: "It's A Strange Luxury To See Someone Else's Version Of Your Life