They were beyond. They’re STILL beyond. Each had an “imperfection” that made them perfect. Cindy’s mole, Lauren’s gap between her front teeth, Iman’s impossibly long neck. In their heyday they reigned nonstop on cover after cover, untouchable. Until, one day, they didn’t. The shift started slowly, with a month here or there featuring Jennifer Aniston or Charlize Theron pitching their latest rom-com instead. Now, in a sad case of the times (aka famous celebrities and actresses and infamous reality stars), anyone with a movie to market or a sex tape to hawk is front and center instead.
Call me elitist, call me unrealistic, call me whatever. But fashion magazines always provided an escape for me, a fantasy, if you will. And while some may argue that they still do, I’d rather ogle an unconventional beauty such as Kristen McMenamy or a regal stunner like Iman, than stare at cover after cover of Hollywood’s latest style “icon” photoshopped within an inch of their life. Once in a while the fashion obsessed is thrown a bone in the shape of Kate or Giselle (still no last name necessary). But as I looked around the salon today, all I saw on the current covers were Lauren Conrad (remember her?) reminiscing on life after her reality show, Britney Spears with a bad wig on, Selena Gomez talking about holiday style and Justin Beiber, Ashley Green yapping about Twilight (are they really still making those movies?!), and Taylor Swift gushing over her latest love (by the time the issue went to press they had broken up). THIS was supposed to inspire me?! This is my escape?! The American public’s infatuation with reality stars and fast celebrity is rendering the unknown model with the stunning face obsolete. The European counterparts have yet to give in as much to this madness, and thankfully at the salon we have both the French and Italian versions of Vogue to ease my pain.
Back in the day, and even now, I could hardly afford anything in these magazines. But it was never the point. I loved looking into a world that was glamorous and alluring. It’s really one of the reasons why I started a career in the beauty industry at all. And as crazy as it sounds, a part of the appeal was the unattainability. Who could forget American Vogue’s 100th anniversary cover, with the world’s leading supermodels, hair perfectly tousled, all clad in white jeans and crisp white button downs knotted at the waist? Realistic? Nope. Visual perfection? Absolutely. I’m just not inspired looking at the 7th cover of Jennifer Aniston this year, touting her as “America’s sweetheart” and “the ultimate girl next door”. Too vanilla, or as I like to say, “needs salt”. Like a true fashion diehard I want to look at a magazine with a quirky, tall, glamazon, and think to myself, “now THAT’S a magazine cover”…..
Linda, Christy, Cindy. Yes please.
The Supermodels. Utter perfection.
One word. Naomi. ‘Nuff said.
Helena. Claudia. Naomi. Christy. Stephanie. I mean…..