This Has Absolutely Nothing to do with Valentine's Day
And honestly not much to do with Fashion Week, either.
New York Fashion Week does not, I’m sorry to say, excite me the way it once did—over the past however many years of my life that I have known about and worked through various fashion weeks both foreign and domestic I have come to learn that, much like five o’clock, it is always fashion week somewhere, which, unlike five o’clock, tends to lessen the thrill. I do always cheer for my friends hard at work in the trenches (and periodically tune in to follow along on Vogue Runway), but even when I was very much there, and very much working hard at it, fashion week was always when I was the least inspired by my own clothes. I would always reach for the most reliable (and warmest) things I owned each early February, not swing for the fences in some particularly exciting way. (Unless a giant coat counts. I did always love a statement coat.) February feels like a hard time to get excited about clothes. Even in L.A., where the weather is fine, all I want to wear is silk pajamas. To everything. Thankfully here it kind of works?
Anyways: I was not in New York for fashion week. I have been a lot of other places recently—notched into red canyons strangely misty with rain in the Arizona high desert; splayed out poolside in Palm Springs; fording the freak rivers in West Hollywood side streets after several days of storms— but none of them were New York. None of the places I was had much to do with fashion, either. I spent a lot of time in bathrobes and rubber sandals and workout gear (if you want to know my favorite gear, you can find that here, or just ask—as a tall and very active person who favors exaggerated movements I do have a LOT of opinions!). To be honest, at the moment that’s what I prefer: out of doors and nowhere near my closet. More to come on those places I’ve been soon enough, though. I think you’re going to really like them!
I’ve been absent from here, too, for longer than I meant to be, and though that’s mostly because of other deadlines and a few new projects that I’m excited to share soon, I did realize that I missed it, and you, so I figured I’d throw some chum out to you, my lovely sharks, in case you were also a little sick of fashion related headlines, or, you know, missed me too. It’s Valentine’s Day, for pete’s sake. That used to mean something! Not much, you know, but something!
A few fun distractions and delights for you as I head to the airport again:
First of all: of course I watched the Usher concert on Sunday, rudely bookended by bouts of padded men running into each other. I can’t wait for his tour. (To remind: that Vogue story is here, if you haven’t read it yet. I for one think he delivered.)
Now, does Mary & George look good or does it look fucking great? (Out in the UK March 5, here April 5 on STARZ. Guess I have to get STARZ. Sponsor me, STARZ!) I could watch Julianne Moore sort her junk mail and probably be kept rapt, but a “true, audacious story of Mary Villiers shaping her son George to charm King James VI of Scotland and I of England into a powerful romance”?!?!!!!?!? Well that’s just catnip.
Are you familiar with BallerinaFarm? I came across a video discussing her on TikTok* a while ago and became fascinated. Not to get too tin-foil-hat-everything-is-a-psyop about it but I feel like the very lovely (and very tradwife mother of … eight) and the fact her popularity skyrocketing coinciding quite neatly with the dissolution of women’s physical autonomy in a lot of this country feels… relevant? I also learned, through her posts, about the Mrs American pageant, not to be confused with the Miss America pageant (or the Mrs America pageant). In the latest Mrs World pageant, there was a Mrs America and a Mrs American competing and they both dressed as showgirl-style eagles for the same contest. (SOMEONE is getting fired!) Neither won: Mrs. Germany did. I cannot find what animal she dressed as, but I did find this, so you know, she got my vote.
*Speaking of TikTok, I’ve found myself going there less and less lately. I don’t know if it’s because I’m busier or it’s flopping. This NYT piece would say it’s the latter. Curious! But also, better for my brain? Without a doubt!
I am, of course, really enjoying Feud (Hulu). Truman Capote and his lot are fertile ground. If you are too, don’t miss this conversation between Vogue’s Chloe Malle and her mother, Candice Bergen, who attended Capote’s much-referenced Black and White ball at the Plaza, and revealed it to be like probably all big, much-publicized parties, which is to say, really pretty stressful, and definitely less fun than it looks. I think the show actually captured the sort of grim plodding of those big parties once all the excitement of the arrivals is over pretty well, where everyone just wants it to be over so they can rehash it at the afters. (Imagine if they’d had Instagram. Nobody would have looked up the whole time once they got inside.)
Malle: The New York Times said at the 50th anniversary of it that Truman Capote hosted the best party ever. Was it the best party ever?
Bergen: Not for me.
Three excellent things to watch right now that are definitely not depressing (this is important this time of year!):
Official Competition (Hulu): A total treat that I had somehow never heard of before??? (Based on the release date, COVID, I think, is to blame.) A small, silly premise: a Spanish octogenarian billionaire wants to enhance his legacy by financing an important award winning film. He enlists a trio of delightfully bizarre egomaniacs: an eccentric director (the impossibly gorgeous Penelope Cruz, with wild curly hair that will make you covet wild curly hair) and a pair of self-obsessed stars from opposite sides of the firmament, Antonio Banderas, as the megawatt international movie star, and Oscar Martinez, as the prestige-ier stage actor and teacher. It is campy, and hilarious, and really enjoyable. If those gorgeous faces weren’t enough, the set design is fabulous to look at, too. (Subtitled. If that’s a problem for you, well…grow up.)
Alexander: The Making of a God (Netflix): Slightly nerdy, very fun. Alexander the Great, being young and gorgeous and conquering the world! And then periodically some talking head guy who looks a little like an egg comes on to tell you about what really went on. Six episodes, lovely to look at, and you learn something! What’s not to love.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Amazon Prime): I had been worried about this, for obvious millennial reasons having to do with the 2005 film’s perfect casting and related tabloid firestorm around its creation. Movies are always better when you know the actors are secretly in love (or worse). It’s called chemistry, my friends! Don’t get mad at me, I didn’t make it up! Anyway, I shouldn’t have worried. Donald Glover, who long ago established his particular genius in Atlanta, has helmed an adaptation that’s completely divorced from the film in very rewarding ways. The wonderful Maya Erskine (of PEN15) plays opposite. It’s darker and moodier and really clever, and it’s a series, set in New York, and I’ve only seen part of it, so don’t ruin it for me, but what I’ve seen so far I’ve really liked. Also there are excellent cameos. Let’s watch it together?
Miuccia Prada is on the March cover of Vogue and I for one have rarely felt so seen by a septugenarian genius with whom I have very little in common.
Prada told me that she is very much aware of her age. “It’s strange,” she said, “because every single morning I have to decide if I am a 15-year-old girl or an old lady near to death.”
…
I asked him what made his wife happy. “When she works, she is happy,” he said. “When she does beautiful things, she is happy. When she travels, she is happy. When she spends time with intelligent people, she is happy.”
Look, all I’m saying is: I get it!
It’s a short one this week, because airport, deadlines, secrets, you get it. I don’t have to explain these things to you! That’s what I love about us. Happy Valentine’s day. I hope you forgot it was even happening and then were pleasantly reminded so you could forget again. Thanks for being here. It means the world. See you next time.