The Business of Magazines
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Benn98
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Firstly, why is there even a US Grazia? Isnt American print industry already on it's last legs? Makes no sense why they'd launch there.
As for Howard being an accomplice, it makes me wonder which media outlets were collaborators (or as they'd probably put it - 'we were just following orders') of Weinstein whenever he decided to kill an actress' career who rebuffed or crossed him? It can't have just been the film producers, there had to have been magazine editors as well. From tabloids running dirt on the women to fashion magazines shunning them from their pages.
Re Vogue Spain, a huge loss for the Vogue brand and for most of us on here! In a very short span of time, Eugenia established an identity for the magazine and their content are consistently praised on here.
As for Howard being an accomplice, it makes me wonder which media outlets were collaborators (or as they'd probably put it - 'we were just following orders') of Weinstein whenever he decided to kill an actress' career who rebuffed or crossed him? It can't have just been the film producers, there had to have been magazine editors as well. From tabloids running dirt on the women to fashion magazines shunning them from their pages.
Re Vogue Spain, a huge loss for the Vogue brand and for most of us on here! In a very short span of time, Eugenia established an identity for the magazine and their content are consistently praised on here.
Benn98
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Alexandra Shulman on Kate Moss' everlasting career. I've read this sort of article thousand times over in Vanity Fair under Graydon, he was obsessed with Kate.
But of course Alexandra had to stay true to her shady form by adding the bolded parts, lol. Not that anyone ever imagined Kate was a serious stylist.....but I believe everything she's saying. Especially the part about Kate wanting to model the shoots she 'styled' for. lol.
Kate Moss the enigma: Former Vogue editor ALEXANDRA SHULMAN offers a unique insight into the supermodel she first helped make famous - as she stars on cover 28 years after her debut
By ALEXANDRA SHULMAN FOR THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
PUBLISHED: 22:01 GMT, 5 December 2020 | UPDATED: 23:26 GMT, 5 December 2020
Alexandra Shulman and Kate Moss are pictured together in September 2016
My favourite memory of Kate Moss is from British Vogue’s 100th birthday after-party.
True to form, she had been the last to arrive at the gala dinner, giggling arm-in-arm with her great friends make-up artist Charlotte Tilbury and hair-stylist Sam McKnight, who had been at her home doing her up.
Giorgio Armani, Damien Lewis, Joan Collins, Kim Kardashian and 200 other guests were all seated, but not Kate.
She made up for it at the later bash at Tramp nightclub, where in a sliver of black she climbed up on the decks, as discs were spun by DJ Fat Tony, and powered the dancefloor – transforming what was a fun evening into something unforgettably special.
The party was naturally pretty glamorous but it was Kate, with her supernova power, who confirmed that you were at the only place to be. She’s like that.
The next morning I discovered my then 21-year-old son had a tangle of her straggly blonde hair extensions in his jacket pocket.
And now, four years later, Kate is on her 40th cover of Vogue. In fact, she’s on two.
In one, her hair still long and tawny, she wears a green Dior goddess dress plunged to her navel, bra-less, head slightly back, eyes tilted down in insolent challenge and her lips just parted in a pose she has perfected and repeated over her remarkable 32-year career.
In the other there is another trademark Kate Look. Dressed in a black Versace crop top with a leather belt caressing her bare hip, and a black beret, she is less come-hither and more enigmatic.
But she could have been wearing the proverbial bin bag and the cover line of Better Than Ever would apply.
It has been an extraordinary trip for the Croydon schoolgirl scouted by Storm Models back in 1988 when she was just 14. And one which undeniably has made her one of most famous – and, at the same time, enigmatic – women in the world.
It was March 1993 when I first put her, aged 19, on the cover of British Vogue. By that time she was known to fashion insiders and had already been on the cover of The Face magazine, but this, her first Vogue cover, was an initiation into the big time.
Kate Moss is on her 40th cover of Vogue. In fact, she’s on two. In one, left, her hair still long and tawny, she wears a green Dior goddess dress plunged to her navel, bra-less, head slightly back, eyes tilted down in insolent challenge and her lips just parted in a pose she has perfected and repeated over her remarkable 32-year career
There are moments when fashion pivots on its axis – and this was one of them.
American designer Marc Jacobs had recently produced his famous Grunge collection, sending models Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, Naomi Campbell and, yes, the smaller, slightly bandy-legged, flat-chested Kate Moss out on a New York catwalk in Converse sneakers and woolly beanies, styling them like a gang of West London schoolgirls.
It was the fashion show that epitomised a move away from the power-dressing of the 1980s and into the 1990s of New Labour, Brit Pop and renegade Young British Artists such as Damien Hirst.
And I thought there was no one better to encapsulate that cooler, edgier feeling in the air than the little-known Kate – wide-eyed and seemingly bare-faced.
Like royalty, everyone recognises her and nobody knows much about her. She loves the company of friends who comply with the strict code of omerta she demands. She is extremely generous and kind (when I left Vogue, she sent me the most exquisite porcelain jar filled with lilies for my garden). And she has a unique sense of style
It’s no accident that since then , Kate Moss has always been the right face, in the right place, at the right time.
She is a woman who has always had an innate understanding of the mechanics of glamour and how to use fame. A woman who, in many ways, has mirrored the cultural shifts of changing eras.
The child-woman of the early 1990s became, towards the end of the decade, the ladette, designer-loving party girl with dramatic and flawed loves such as Johnny Depp and Pete Doherty.
When the London high street was riding high, she was Philip Green’s trophy designer at Topshop, producing a range that mimicked her own wardrobe.
Five years ago, as the mother of Lila Grace (now 18), she decided it was time to take her career in a new direction, starting up her own model agency to launch Lila and other young models.
And, rather than being jealous of her daughter’s youthful beauty, she embraces it – last week they were photographed together to promote a range of their own-brand white hoodies.
Spending her weeks between London and the Cotswolds, she is now teetotal in this cleaner-living age and partner of the charming and extraordinarily eligible photographer Count Nikolai von Bismarck, who – Kate being on-trend as ever – is 13 years younger than her.
Recently she has begun to give interviews and do videos, but for the first 20 years of her career only those who were family, friends, lovers or colleagues heard her speak. Never complain, never explain was the motto that served her well.
Many models are frustrated by being a silent cipher, but Kate has never had any desire to use her voice. Instead, as cannily knowing as the Sphinx of Giza, she instinctively understood that her image could speak so much louder than mere words and that, as her fame grew, her silence would only gain more potency.
You won’t hear her pontificating about climate change.
Iconic is one of our most over- used descriptions, but in Kate’s case it is true. An icon represents something more than the thing itself. And that is what Kate has become.
But, in private, she hardly draws breath. Her gravelly South London voice rattles away in a stream of anecdotes and mimicry.
Flung on a sofa in a pile of velvet cushions in her Highgate home, cackles of laughter ricochet off the walls as she waves her hands around to illustrate her point, a simple but priceless diamond bracelet worn casually on her wrist.
Or you might, as I did a few summers ago, find her behind her classic sunglasses on the Greek island of Hydra, bare-legged and dressed in her trademark black, sitting at a cafe table and nattering on her mobile, planning the day with her friend, the late now David Tang, whose large boat moored opposite hers was hosting Sarah, the Duchess of York, while Philip Green’s super-yacht Lionheart was en route for a rendezvous.
Coincidentally, given last week’s news of the collapse of Arcadia, it was when interviewing her in 2007 at a Vogue shoot to celebrate her debut collection for Topshop that I first encountered Kate up close.
Yes, she had come to parties and dinners I had hosted – often, I knew, on sufferance, urged that it would be politic to make nice with the editor of Vogue – but she would generally avoid anything or anyone with a whiff of corporate obligation about it.
I remember walking into the hair and make-up room, where she was noisily regaling the assembled company with some juicy piece of gossip, and the icy silence that fell as she fixed me with a Medusa stare.
As an outsider, I was treated to the full force of her excluding weaponry – sideways looks, whispered exchanges. No one looks down their nose more effectively than she, and I felt at once ancient and like a child marooned outside the gang. And then, for no apparent reason, it was all change and she was warm, funny, inclusive and open.
As David Tang brilliantly put it at the time: ‘She’s like the neutrons and protons sleeping in the centre of the atom, with all these electrons spinning around her. She’s in the middle and everybody’s going f***ing mad on the periphery pandering to her.’
Like royalty, everyone recognises her and nobody knows much about her. She loves the company of friends who comply with the strict code of omerta she demands.
She is extremely generous and kind (when I left Vogue, she sent me the most exquisite porcelain jar filled with lilies for my garden). And she has a unique sense of style.
Watching her go through a rail of clothes, holding them up against her body, talking about a photograph something reminds her of, slipping into an item and turning it from a dull rag into something utterly desirable as she cinches it around her waist, adjusts the neckline and twirls in the mirror, is why I asked her to join Vogue as a fashion editor in 2013.
She loved the idea of being in charge of the whole shoot for a change, picking photographers and models, choosing the clothes.
Did she do the donkey work? Of course not. Did she miss deadlines? Naturally. But there was not a photographer or model who wasn’t excited by the idea of working with her and inspired by her enthusiasm.
Of course, in the end she really wanted to be the model herself. It’s been her life; it’s what she knows.
The camera lens is the lover she never tires of. And it’s why she’s still there on Vogue covers and advertising campaigns at 46, and no doubt will still be in another ten years. Nobody does it better.
Daily Mail
But of course Alexandra had to stay true to her shady form by adding the bolded parts, lol. Not that anyone ever imagined Kate was a serious stylist.....but I believe everything she's saying. Especially the part about Kate wanting to model the shoots she 'styled' for. lol.
Kate Moss the enigma: Former Vogue editor ALEXANDRA SHULMAN offers a unique insight into the supermodel she first helped make famous - as she stars on cover 28 years after her debut
By ALEXANDRA SHULMAN FOR THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
PUBLISHED: 22:01 GMT, 5 December 2020 | UPDATED: 23:26 GMT, 5 December 2020
Alexandra Shulman and Kate Moss are pictured together in September 2016
My favourite memory of Kate Moss is from British Vogue’s 100th birthday after-party.
True to form, she had been the last to arrive at the gala dinner, giggling arm-in-arm with her great friends make-up artist Charlotte Tilbury and hair-stylist Sam McKnight, who had been at her home doing her up.
Giorgio Armani, Damien Lewis, Joan Collins, Kim Kardashian and 200 other guests were all seated, but not Kate.
She made up for it at the later bash at Tramp nightclub, where in a sliver of black she climbed up on the decks, as discs were spun by DJ Fat Tony, and powered the dancefloor – transforming what was a fun evening into something unforgettably special.
The party was naturally pretty glamorous but it was Kate, with her supernova power, who confirmed that you were at the only place to be. She’s like that.
The next morning I discovered my then 21-year-old son had a tangle of her straggly blonde hair extensions in his jacket pocket.
And now, four years later, Kate is on her 40th cover of Vogue. In fact, she’s on two.
In one, her hair still long and tawny, she wears a green Dior goddess dress plunged to her navel, bra-less, head slightly back, eyes tilted down in insolent challenge and her lips just parted in a pose she has perfected and repeated over her remarkable 32-year career.
In the other there is another trademark Kate Look. Dressed in a black Versace crop top with a leather belt caressing her bare hip, and a black beret, she is less come-hither and more enigmatic.
But she could have been wearing the proverbial bin bag and the cover line of Better Than Ever would apply.
It has been an extraordinary trip for the Croydon schoolgirl scouted by Storm Models back in 1988 when she was just 14. And one which undeniably has made her one of most famous – and, at the same time, enigmatic – women in the world.
It was March 1993 when I first put her, aged 19, on the cover of British Vogue. By that time she was known to fashion insiders and had already been on the cover of The Face magazine, but this, her first Vogue cover, was an initiation into the big time.
Kate Moss is on her 40th cover of Vogue. In fact, she’s on two. In one, left, her hair still long and tawny, she wears a green Dior goddess dress plunged to her navel, bra-less, head slightly back, eyes tilted down in insolent challenge and her lips just parted in a pose she has perfected and repeated over her remarkable 32-year career
There are moments when fashion pivots on its axis – and this was one of them.
American designer Marc Jacobs had recently produced his famous Grunge collection, sending models Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, Naomi Campbell and, yes, the smaller, slightly bandy-legged, flat-chested Kate Moss out on a New York catwalk in Converse sneakers and woolly beanies, styling them like a gang of West London schoolgirls.
It was the fashion show that epitomised a move away from the power-dressing of the 1980s and into the 1990s of New Labour, Brit Pop and renegade Young British Artists such as Damien Hirst.
And I thought there was no one better to encapsulate that cooler, edgier feeling in the air than the little-known Kate – wide-eyed and seemingly bare-faced.
Like royalty, everyone recognises her and nobody knows much about her. She loves the company of friends who comply with the strict code of omerta she demands. She is extremely generous and kind (when I left Vogue, she sent me the most exquisite porcelain jar filled with lilies for my garden). And she has a unique sense of style
It’s no accident that since then , Kate Moss has always been the right face, in the right place, at the right time.
She is a woman who has always had an innate understanding of the mechanics of glamour and how to use fame. A woman who, in many ways, has mirrored the cultural shifts of changing eras.
The child-woman of the early 1990s became, towards the end of the decade, the ladette, designer-loving party girl with dramatic and flawed loves such as Johnny Depp and Pete Doherty.
When the London high street was riding high, she was Philip Green’s trophy designer at Topshop, producing a range that mimicked her own wardrobe.
Five years ago, as the mother of Lila Grace (now 18), she decided it was time to take her career in a new direction, starting up her own model agency to launch Lila and other young models.
And, rather than being jealous of her daughter’s youthful beauty, she embraces it – last week they were photographed together to promote a range of their own-brand white hoodies.
Spending her weeks between London and the Cotswolds, she is now teetotal in this cleaner-living age and partner of the charming and extraordinarily eligible photographer Count Nikolai von Bismarck, who – Kate being on-trend as ever – is 13 years younger than her.
Recently she has begun to give interviews and do videos, but for the first 20 years of her career only those who were family, friends, lovers or colleagues heard her speak. Never complain, never explain was the motto that served her well.
Many models are frustrated by being a silent cipher, but Kate has never had any desire to use her voice. Instead, as cannily knowing as the Sphinx of Giza, she instinctively understood that her image could speak so much louder than mere words and that, as her fame grew, her silence would only gain more potency.
You won’t hear her pontificating about climate change.
Iconic is one of our most over- used descriptions, but in Kate’s case it is true. An icon represents something more than the thing itself. And that is what Kate has become.
But, in private, she hardly draws breath. Her gravelly South London voice rattles away in a stream of anecdotes and mimicry.
Flung on a sofa in a pile of velvet cushions in her Highgate home, cackles of laughter ricochet off the walls as she waves her hands around to illustrate her point, a simple but priceless diamond bracelet worn casually on her wrist.
Or you might, as I did a few summers ago, find her behind her classic sunglasses on the Greek island of Hydra, bare-legged and dressed in her trademark black, sitting at a cafe table and nattering on her mobile, planning the day with her friend, the late now David Tang, whose large boat moored opposite hers was hosting Sarah, the Duchess of York, while Philip Green’s super-yacht Lionheart was en route for a rendezvous.
Coincidentally, given last week’s news of the collapse of Arcadia, it was when interviewing her in 2007 at a Vogue shoot to celebrate her debut collection for Topshop that I first encountered Kate up close.
Yes, she had come to parties and dinners I had hosted – often, I knew, on sufferance, urged that it would be politic to make nice with the editor of Vogue – but she would generally avoid anything or anyone with a whiff of corporate obligation about it.
I remember walking into the hair and make-up room, where she was noisily regaling the assembled company with some juicy piece of gossip, and the icy silence that fell as she fixed me with a Medusa stare.
As an outsider, I was treated to the full force of her excluding weaponry – sideways looks, whispered exchanges. No one looks down their nose more effectively than she, and I felt at once ancient and like a child marooned outside the gang. And then, for no apparent reason, it was all change and she was warm, funny, inclusive and open.
As David Tang brilliantly put it at the time: ‘She’s like the neutrons and protons sleeping in the centre of the atom, with all these electrons spinning around her. She’s in the middle and everybody’s going f***ing mad on the periphery pandering to her.’
Like royalty, everyone recognises her and nobody knows much about her. She loves the company of friends who comply with the strict code of omerta she demands.
She is extremely generous and kind (when I left Vogue, she sent me the most exquisite porcelain jar filled with lilies for my garden). And she has a unique sense of style.
Watching her go through a rail of clothes, holding them up against her body, talking about a photograph something reminds her of, slipping into an item and turning it from a dull rag into something utterly desirable as she cinches it around her waist, adjusts the neckline and twirls in the mirror, is why I asked her to join Vogue as a fashion editor in 2013.
She loved the idea of being in charge of the whole shoot for a change, picking photographers and models, choosing the clothes.
Did she do the donkey work? Of course not. Did she miss deadlines? Naturally. But there was not a photographer or model who wasn’t excited by the idea of working with her and inspired by her enthusiasm.
Of course, in the end she really wanted to be the model herself. It’s been her life; it’s what she knows.
The camera lens is the lover she never tires of. And it’s why she’s still there on Vogue covers and advertising campaigns at 46, and no doubt will still be in another ten years. Nobody does it better.
Daily Mail
THD96
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From Vogue to Daily Mail. It's the downgrade for me 
. Anna and Edward could never. This just proves me that this woman is tasteless. The only time she ever relevant these day are when she mentions someone else name. She can throw as much shades she wants but Edward is taking one step at a time to become the next Us Vogue EIC while she continues to receiving paycheck from DM 
.
. Anna and Edward could never. This just proves me that this woman is tasteless. The only time she ever relevant these day are when she mentions someone else name. She can throw as much shades she wants but Edward is taking one step at a time to become the next Us Vogue EIC while she continues to receiving paycheck from DM .
Benn98
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From Vogue to Daily Mail. It's the downgrade for me
Come on, at some point the Vogue discounts will dry up and she'd have to pay full price off the rack like the rest of us. LOL.
Alexandra is very much aware that this is what she'd need to do to stay on our radar because the end game is to sell more books. Now you won't be able to do that if nobody knows or cares about who you are.
I wonder whatever happened to that BoF deal? She wrote maybe 3 articles for them and nothing since. Looking at who she's been writing for (M&S, Daily Mail) tells me that she probably asked for too much money. LOL.
Also, her lad is creepy for keeping a string of Kate's extensions in his pocket...
annikad
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Of course she is citing personal reasons but with all the recent changes in the Conde Nast european departments I wouldn't be so surprised if it was not just that... no follow up has been announced yet, apparently an interim team will edit the next issues. (Source meedia.com)
MON
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Oh Eugenia. Just when Vogue Spain was slowly starting to have its own identity.
Arp had to go. She ran the brand she worked hard to create to the ground and made a mockery of Vogue Germany. The last 5 years have been terrible.
Arp had to go. She ran the brand she worked hard to create to the ground and made a mockery of Vogue Germany. The last 5 years have been terrible.
liberty33r1b
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I‘m so glad Arp is leaving, finally some good news
Miss Dalloway
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I mean Shulman has always lacked class, so that Kate article does not surprise me. Read any of her interviews since leaving Vogue, lol she is just sad. But it cracks me up how well she fits inside that petty, awful DM world, she got what se deserved in the end.
I'm one of those people that will miss Arp, she was a good editor, but obviously wasn't in it for the last few years, it's right she is out.
I'm one of those people that will miss Arp, she was a good editor, but obviously wasn't in it for the last few years, it's right she is out.
Xone
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With all the Condenast reestructure, i guess de primary reason for these Editors to leave their position is money...how much less the executives offered them? In the end i believe that of course they should keep a lifestyle and everything. Always there will be someone ready to take their spot. I hope to hear from those editors soon, specially Angelica and Eugenia....and from the goodbye-letter from Eugenia it doesn’t seem that her departure was planned.
caioherrero
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Vanessa Friedman just posted on Twitter : Anna Wintour is now Chief Content Officer of all Conde Nast, aka the editor of all editors.
THD96
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Take that Anna hater on woke Twitter 
. She a survivor and always comeback stronger. SO BACK OFF HATER. sorry not sorry #ionlystandlegends. This just proves that the CN suits just can't let her go . They need her more than her need them cause all the power she wield for them. I mean she already have enough money (and Chanel suits) to live a peaceful life. I think she have a Karl Lagerfeld type of contract with them. That being said all hell will break loose when she decided to retired tho.
. She a survivor and always comeback stronger. SO BACK OFF HATER. sorry not sorry #ionlystandlegends. This just proves that the CN suits just can't let her go . They need her more than her need them cause all the power she wield for them. I mean she already have enough money (and Chanel suits) to live a peaceful life. I think she have a Karl Lagerfeld type of contract with them. That being said all hell will break loose when she decided to retired tho.
MON
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The only way is up. One thing's for sure, Anna will only leave in her own accord. And despite persistent (or shall I say baseless) rumors of her demise, Conde Nast still needs Anna and her brand. She is the face of Conde Nast.
Other appointments include
Amy Astley - global editorial director of Architectural Digest;
Divia Thani - global editorial director of Condé Nast Traveller;
Will Welch - global editorial director of GQ; and
Edward Enninful - European editorial director for Vogue (for editions owned and operated by CN)
Other similar positions will be created next year.
On a similar note, keep your eye out on Amy Astley. Her and her credentials were saved from Teen Vogue's demise, transferred to A.D., and now given this big role. It seems like C.N. is hellbent on keeping her.
"They're giving her the Joanna Coles treatment"... in 3......... 2.............. 1...................
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Benn98
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Burst out laughing reading this!
Is anyone who frequent and post on this forum shocked? Doubt it.
She'll overtake that Roger Lynch guy's position yet, mark my words. LOL. And to think the media almost relished when it was unveiled he would be 'her boss' and kept pressing her for comments hoping she'll be shady. Anna is like Kate and Naomi, they'd survive Chernobyl!
All these editors suddenly 'resigning' en masse, are they connected to this new 'editor of all editors' position? LOL. They'll start dropping tell-all books the moment those non-disclosure agreements expires.
All the global AD issues already look like one main issue translated in different languages so Amy can do that job with her eyes closed. I peek through it every now and then, it's as dull as dishwater.
Just as well there is no UK edition.
But the biggest shocker is Will Welch! Completely wrong for this role, sorry. And I'm 200% sure Dylan must be feeling some sort of way over this, lol. If he can't even stand Alex at Esquire who was his protege, imagine this!
MON
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Farneti should be the European editorial director for GQ considering his work for Vogue Italia. Woman of the year issue at best.
