My first Vogue experience
When I was about 7 or 8, I can’t remember exactly, I just know I was quite young, we used to go and stay with a very good friend of my mum’s, Jackie. Jackie was and still is a glamourous lady, as is my mum, and always looked immaculate. They still have the same house, which is beautiful, always homely and welcoming and always smelling amazing (I’m very sensitive to smell). I would always walk a little extra slower past the bamboo mirror in the hallway, just so I could take a little peek at her perfumes…generally YSL Paris and Coco Chanel. Anyway, I’m digressing. The point to this post is to share my memory of one thing which sticks in my mind most from our visits and one thing I harbour a secret excitement over. It would be sitting in the special seat in the living room. It was too close to the TV really, but I didn’t sit there to watch Countdown. If I peeked over the arm of the chair, I could see the magazine rack. And in the rack, there would sit a shiny new copy of the latest Vogue. I didn’t need to ask what Vogue was. It was clear it was packed to the brim with groundbreaking fashion (as well as glamourous cigarette adverts) and it filled me with a great amount of enthusiasm every time.
Cover of British Vogue, November 1984 Cover of British Vogue, August 1984
Even thinking back to this memory now fills me with adrenalin and a good feeling. As Sarah Jessica Parker once famously quoted,
“When I first moved to New York, I was totally broke. Sometimes I’d buy Vogue instead of dinner. I felt it fed me more”
Without even having to think about it, thats what I would do if I were broke in New York too. And I’m sure there are millions of other girls and women who would also do the same.
Even now, buying the latest copy of Vogue is like waking up on Christmas morning. It’s so shiny. It smells so good. It’s like a piece of art. You know whatever you read in Vogue is going to be in all other magazines the following month. They’re always one step ahead. You can imagine the same line is used within their offices as the one featured in The Devil Wears Prada. You know the one, “A million girls would kill for this job”.
Vogue isn’t just a fashion magazine. It’s a moment in time. When you look back over back copies, from a year ago, 5 years ago, 20 years ago, it reflects exactly what was going on in society, culturally, sartorially. Those images of Kate Moss, Christy Turlington, Naomi Campbell, Linda Evangelista, Cindy Crawford & Helena Christensen will never vacate my vacuous mind. They were the original supermodels and I used to idolise them. The original Kate Moss Calvin Klein adverts would be ripped out of magazines and stuck on my bedroom wall. They were iconic to the early years of the 90’s.
Vogue is also a way of involving yourself in up-to-the-second fashion. Whether or not you can afford the clothes inside is beside the point. I feel I am part of a special world when I’m reading about Jonathan Saunders or Aygness Deyn. It’s the same as buying a bottle of Chanel fragrance, you feel you’re buying into a little piece of something very special. And it feels good. Really, really good.
For me Vogue is a glossy bible of inspiration. It’s the cream of the crop of magazines. It’s dedicated to fashion, to art and artists and its something I can’t ever see myself giving up.
British Vogue, December 2011 British Vogue, January 2012