Cheat Sheet: July Mags
Call us crazy, but there's something supremely sublime about flipping through actual paper magazines instead of scrolling down an electronic page. It's also nice to remember that one's attention span is actually longer than that of a mosquito — something oft forgotten on the web. As operator of this here website, you of course don't need to wonder in which medium our loyalties lay. But that doesn't mean we don't like to take a break from our digital domain at least once a month to see what those big-time, corporate magazine editors are up to. Here's what we found for July.
Vanity Fair
Cover girl: A 1959 bathing suit shot of Liz Taylor in Majorca, Spain on the set of her film Suddenly, Last Summer.
The good stuff: An interesting glimpse into the life of journalist Sally Quinn, whose long-running society column at the Washington Post was recently canned after a piece about her son's wedding failed to add any heft to society whatsoever.
The fashion: A Norman Jean Roy-shot spread of the ladies of Twilight clad in simple, glamorous gowns by the likes of Ungaro, Oscar de la Renta and Armani. A two-pager features Lady Lucia St. Clair Erskine, the second daughter of the seventh Earl of Rosslyn, dressed in a white, debutante-esque de la Renta gown along with seven other young, fellow aristocrates. The regal, swan-like set makes Countess LuAnn look like a hooker.
Requisite WTF piece: In case you were wondering, pop artist Peter Max painted portraits of some of Wall Street's biggest assholes (Goldman Sachs' John Paulson included) for a now-defunct publication called Trader Monthly. The art was supposed to have been sold for charity. But there was a dispute between the artist and his subjects over the worth of the work. We'd make a joke, but these people have already turned themselves into a punchline better than we ever could.
Nylon
Cover girl: Uber-bad ass M.I.A. wearing a really edgy, underground outfit consisting of geometric enamel jewelry, a puffy-sleeve bolero that looks like the top of a Hawaiian shirt and a DKNY jumpsuit. Because nothing screams PLO-wannabe louder than a DKNY jumpsuit.
The fashion: Trend spreads spotlighting two varieties of punk: Plain ol' punk and Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, neon Body Glove-style punk — both shot in the style of a Cobrasnake photograph. A few pages are devoted to red-headed model Karen Elson as she frolics through some type of Shabby Chic forest. Musician Marina Diamondis shows off spandex Jeremy Scott and American Apparel going out dresses, body suits and booties.
The good stuff: Paragraphs on L.A.-based designers David Hershberger (of Endovanera) and Erik Hart.
Requisite WTF piece: A first person narrative by Dani Stahl, socialite/Nylon style director, on learning how to play DJ Hero at the game maker's L.A. office while wearing a sequined dress. In this article we learn four things: Dani is friends with a lot of DJs, including Leigh Lezark and a slew of Ronsons, "just to name a few." Two: She's single. Three? A fashion label once tried to fly her to Japan to DJ a party but she turned them down. And four: Dani wishes all of her ex-boyfriends the best. Dani, we hope that they, too, harbor no ill will on their crumbled, former relationships. And thank you for making yourself so vulnerable.
GQ
Cover guy: Helloo, Taylor Lautner. We're team Edward ourselves, but the other Twilight star's sharp, soulful gaze makes us debate switching sides. Almost.
The good stuff: The laugh-out-loud "GQ Guide to Homophobia," which includes a glossary of terms (Ass Mechanic: Something Woody Harrelson would call John Goodman in a Coen brothers movie about an auto shop), a list of the gayest sports (Ladies golf, bareback unicorn riding and professional football) and some epithets for heterosexuals (Hockey Mom, Once-a-Week Pete). An interesting story is to be found about ethical eating and overcoming diners guilt. As well as a feature about the evening of the BP oil disaster with the rig workers and coast guard crewman who were there.
The fashion: Tay Tay in All-American tweeds, ties and pea coats. True Blood's Mechad Brooks showing off the swim trunks of the seasom while getting it on in the pool area of a really sick house. And actor Dev Patel traipsing London in some seriously dapper, well-fitting suits by the likes of Dior, Armani and Simon Spurr.
Requisite WTF piece: Ugh, M.I.A. is back? Aren't "anarchists" supposed to eschew publicists?