Fug File: Vogue

Fug or Fab the Cover: Rihanna


This is the first time in a long time that I’ve looked at Vogue and thought the cover was compelling. The “I Love to Have Fun” pull-quote feels like it ought to be on the cover of Seventeen, but Rihanna is killing it in that dress and — as Tyra would say — she has mastered the art of the smize. In fact, I assume Tyra is reading this issue at home (eating nachos and wearing a caftan, because in my imagination that is how Tyra rolls off-hours) and talking about smizing RIGHT NOW.

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[Photo: Vogue.com]

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Fug or Fab the Cover: Keira Knightley


I just never think of Vogue as trying to target people who want to make their tendinitis sexy. … Wait, hang on, that might be exactly what Vogue‘s target demo is. Never mind.

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[Photos: Vogue]

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Well Played Cover: Lady Gaga


You guys may think I’m insane for this, but I have to say, this is super effective for me.

I know we get cranky about covers where the subjects don’t really look recognizably themselves, but here’s why I think that’s an asset here: 1) We’ve gotten to the point where who the hell KNOWS or REMEMBERS what Lady Gaga even looks like anymore; 2) I have complete and total Gaga fatigue, and I don’t think I’m alone in that; 3) seeing her on this cover made me interested instead of eye-rolly, because the silhouette is so striking, the color is majestic, and I don’t think I’ve seen her like this in a long time. I practically forgot she even HAD a face. It makes me faintly curious about her again, which I never thought would happen, and that is about the only way you’re likely to get me to pick up a five-pound magazine and bring it home. Sure, it hasn’t WORKED — the odds of me actually doing that are slimmer than her waist in this picture; I only barely have patience for free weights in the gym, and I have enough doorstops — but they got me about as close as I was going to get, by convincing me maybe there was something to see in here that I hadn’t already looked at a thousand times. Mission accomplished, I think.

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Fug the Cover, then Better Played: Emma Stone on Vogue


We got a lot of questions about this cover when we were in Boston, and we realized we accidentally hadn’t posted it. So here is the remedy:

Facially, Emma looks pretty as ever, but the zombie eyes are really distracting. Emma Stone is pretty much brimming with personality. She’s overflowing with it. So it’s unfathomable to me that Vogue found a way to suck out her spark. It’s further disappointing that they felt compelled to sex her up by sticking her in glorified lingerie (or whatever the heck that is), because Emma Stone is someone who has proven she can carry off more advanced fashion. She can be a lot more interesting, overall, than this cover is allowing her to be. And that is a shame, because — and this is an old refrain — isn’t the benefit of having Emma Stone on your cover the ability to play on people’s fascination with how spunky and inviting her natural personality is? Why not magnify that instead of making her look like somebody’s bored, bland mistress?

Problematically, too, I am not crazy about the garment. It’s super disturbing to me that the negligee (or dress, or camisole, or whatever it is) has that flesh-toned satin piece that I keep, at first passing glance, thinking is her rib cage. It is NOT, and I am not getting into body-shaming here; Emma Stone is lovely, and that is fabric, not her body. But if you’re, say, a nine-year old girl, or even a twenty-year old one, and you’re meandering past the checkout line with your mom and you catch a glimpse of this but can’t stop to stare, you might think, “Oh, look, that girl’s ribcage is on the cover of Vogue,” and that could end up in a bad place. The whole thing seems… well, I would say tone-deaf, but I don’t think they did it on purpose. Perhaps unfortunate is a better word.

Look how much better Vogue UK did:

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Mostly Fab the Cover: Meryl Streep; Fug or Fab the Pics: Vogue itself


So, let me begin by stating for the record that I love Meryl Streep, and I am thrilled Vogue finally put someone of her age and accomplishment level on the cover, after giving that platform to the same handful of predictably dull choices like Nicole Kidman and Renee Zellweger and Sarah Jessica Parker approximately eleven-hundred times. Frankly, it’s amazing to me that it took this long, although it feels like Vogue wants you to hug them for being so brave and then give them an award.

Even the layout appears to scream, “DO NOT FORGET WHAT WE HAVE DONE.” The number 50 is barking at us from the bottom left, as if to suggest, “50! As in, a smaller number than the age of the lady on the cover!” And there’s that story up by her face about flawless skin at any age. I feel like it’s yelling, “ANY AGE. EVEN MERYL’S, Y’ALL. BECAUSE IF YOU HAVEN’T HEARD, SHE’S OLDER THAN ANYONE WE’VE EVER PUT ON OUR COVER.”

But I’m conflicted. I do think Meryl looks good. And I don’t want Meryl to look like anyone other than Meryl. But I wonder if there was some acreage between “plonk Meryl on a rock” and “make Meryl look like Katy Perry.” Check out the other photo they’re distributing as part of the big cover coup:

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Fug the Photoshoot: Glee


Dear Conde Nast:

[Click here if you want to see this in its ginormous glory.]

I understand the intense drive to Use the Magic of Computers to create a photo that Is Perfect. But you know that the over-reliance on Photoshop in the place of what used to be called JUST TAKING AN AWESOME PICTURE has turned photos like these into Frankenstein’s Monsters, right? No one’s legs are properly attached. People’s heads are just cut from one shoot and plopped into another. Like, Chord Overstreet back there? It looks like you just grabbed a rejected pic from his Teen Vogue shoot and pasted it into this one. Not a single person in this shot looks like they were ever in the same room as any other person in this shot. Dianna Agron is missing a leg and looks like a robot. Ashley Fink is a floating head in a top hat (no comment on the fact that it’s somewhat suspect that the plus size girl is stuck in the back where we can’t see her body at all, except I totally just made that comment). (And LOTS of comments on the fact that apparently Naya Rivera and Amber Riley were unable to make the shoot, which was then apparently not rescheduled to accommodate them. Look, I get that coordinating a shoot like this is probably a logistical clusterf…er, fiasco, but I also would just like to suggest that Vogue would be well-advised to be sensitive to the fact that they aren’t exactly known for featuring women of color and it might be in their best interests to make an effort to highlight the diversity of Glee‘s cast. Especially because Vogue is becoming increasingly obsolete for the sort of woman who used to read it regularly: AKA people who like outfits in general but who aren’t Eating-Breathing-Sleeping Fashion. You guys, when the economy is in the toilet, and the toilet is ON FIRE, maybe you shouldn’t even pretend to care if pretending to care takes the form of a feature called “Steal of the Month” and a “steal” is often, like, a $200 tee shirt. A $200 tee shirt IS NOT A STEAL WHY ARE YOU EVEN PRETENDING YOU KNOW ABOUT DEALS? MY GOD.) Anyway. Where was it? Oh, right: this picture! It’s SO manipulated in post that it doesn’t even look real, and because it doesn’t even look real, it utterly lacks charm. Slight imperfections are what make group photos charming — why do you think people post their old class photos on Facebook?

In short, Y’ALL NEED TO GET A GRIP AND PUT DOWN THE PASTE FEATURE.

Thank you for your kind attention,

Jessica

[Photo: Mario Testino/Vogue]

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