Alas. Elle est partie.
Merde.
My horror has put a halt to a half decent post as I succumb to the reality that my fantasy of strolling into Vogue Paris to work with her has now realised the fullest potential it will ever reach - that is me role playing my interactions with her on the 25 bus home.
Double merde.
The lean lines and the smokey eye. The flash of leg and the indecorous sexiness of leather. All of which she credits to her close friend Mr Tom Ford who indeed modelled Gucci on her ability to be sexy and classic yet present an element of rock that thus far most influential Vogue Editors do not (notably the Great Dame Wintour) manage to interpret. All that aside Vogue Paris was given a sharp and direct edge. The advertising and visual identity of the magazine lifted to a new platform and ultimately this bled back into French fashion from the past decade. Balenciaga. Chanel. Lanvin. That Carine factor cannot be lost in analysing the way these fashion extraordinaries have evolved within these early years of this millennium.
Here is the 411 from Vogue UK.
Images courtesy of Jak and Jil.
kiss.
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