Tears In Vogue
How Much Female Power is within Women’s Interest Media?
I’ve always believed in what women’s interest media originally stood for at Condé Nast’s purchase of Vogue. Leading the conversation in culture and societal change as well as promoting products that ultimately contributed to the billion dollar industry some like to dress up as frivolity. As if editors don’t have credit card debt and pose for pictures with borrowed clothes. Underlining the unrealistic affordability of the over priced fashion we advertise as accessible to all. Since working within the magazine I must consider sales over creative, building a fashion media business that doesn’t enable its dedicated employees to thrive financially, or rather, be the customer, seems the most preposterous of ironies. Historically men headed women’s publishing in order to steer female passions in what worked better for them. They needed to keep us preoccupied while pursuing their objectives. Despite the looming topic of its continuously close encounter with closure, the prestigiously coveted American Vogue has appeared mostly focused on financials. The ever subtle smell of misogyny lingers as I make comparisons to what it’s all become. Betty Friedan said, “This is America. The whole world lies open to American women. Why, then, does the image deny the world? Why does it limit women to ‘one passion, one role, one occupation?” Is there not a better way we could be doing this?
I started at Condé Nast in Milano. Our small team of women was tough, but prioritised communication, transparency, and respect. Working at Vogue under Anna Dello Russo during a time of blackberries sans social media was a bootcamp type of awakening at how hard female editors had to work and compete. The stories I’d heard of how things worked at American Vogue were quite dissuading when I’d attempt to imagine my career path in New York as a creative in women’s interest media. I’ve heard from female editors on the inside discouraged by what little contributions they’re allowed to make. How awful it must be holding a title that doesn’t give you the opportunity to excel in what its very definition suggests otherwise. The freedom to share, experiment and develop one’s ideas. Giving artists you believe in an equal opportunity. The magazine was reborn with celebrity covers in the late 80’s, however fresh thirty years ago, a bit stale today. Empowering a wealthy celebrity to bring their own teams appear to discredit the very artists that, often financially struggling, spend their careers chasing a break to prove to Vogue their value.
Betty Friedan’s observations within women’s interest magazines, still seem so current. How at a time of absurd regression in woman’s will to flourish, in career and the politics that determined what level of education her child merited and if her processed food would eventually cause diabetes; she was persuaded to keep her concerns to what she was influenced by in media trends. For if women were to be kept in their place, who better to helm their collective reasonings than a bunch of old white men. I’ve seen successful women within my industry negate self love, family, and mental health for the role that’s given to them only if they concede to the male gaze — ‘compete’. I’ve thought most recently about Audrey Withers and her story at British Vogue. The competition between the American and European editors. Each country so diverse, living in different circumstances with different cultural educations. I admire a woman who is brave enough to stand up for herself, like Audrey, for her womanhood. Mr. Nast respected her most for that. If women are stronger together it makes sense that in order for our male counter parts to reign in our hysteria, we’d be kept competing in a continual upward climb for their approval. The condition of our universal gender culture some say started from the very beginning with Adam blaming and condemning Eve for being curious. Perhaps a contributing culprit in our on constant battle for the human right to chose what we’re allowed to do with our own bodies. The chasing trend stories ‘who wore it better’ and ‘how to get the look’ seemingly perpetuate female competition and have much more success on other platforms less esteemed. Of course, good fluff pieces are necessary to balance news cycles of consistent calamity, but I continue to wonder if what’s being chosen is approved by a group of diverse women or one woman’s perspective and a bunch of men’s approval. What then does that actually say about leading fashion media’s innovative progress?
Wouldn’t women of contrasting upbringings and experiences be better qualified to hold positions that facilitate executive decisions on ‘what’s best for us’. Fashion office culture is toxic, we know this, but does it still have to be?I’ve heard stories of prestigious women’s fashion labels with male design teams discussing their disgust for the female body as they profit and earn titles from women’s RTW. In the age of gender fluidity and LGBTQ reformations why must I still be kept at bay, just below another man. What about the science that supports the abundant good and prosperity statistically investing in a woman brings to a community of other women. It did exist more so as such, once, now it seems every decision is based on share holder profit margins and appeasing advertisers. Slowly peeling away the credibility the title itself once held. Economist Scott Galloway said on a BOF podcast “Advertising dollars are for the poor and technologically illiterate.” That loss of credibility perhaps explains why one woman — I myself admire for her incredible skill to hold a position over decades whilst losing so much money — is indeed still calm, cool, and collectively sitting on her throne. My imagination runs wild at the idea of what it could have been if budgets were directed in other ways. If various female executives of all races and ethnicities were hired and given a voice. What great things a woman could do with such power and position. Texting twenty something fashion darlings for answers easily attained if one truly invested in other women, seems absurdly counterproductive. What business empire could have been built if the last 20 years was an effort to build women up and build them up together. It is, after all, our interests that have made so many men rich.
Instead I’m trying to wrap my head around how I should be celebrating yet again another man elevated to a higher position, awarded more power over women’s magazines. At a time when Europe itself is so divided and the UK has officially exited the EU. How much do I value the influence of what another man has to tell me about what works on my body, what I should be reading, and what imagery will inspire me most? How does he relate to me, an Afro-Cuban American Italian female having grown up all over Europe and America? I appreciate all voices that love women, that worship our bodies, and everything it means, both beautiful and less so, to be a woman. However living in New York City, post Covid, still awaiting true justice for Breonna Taylor, after uncovering the statistics of the hundreds of thousands of women who’ve lost their jobs this past year; make the news of a British male editor’s promotion seem less worthy of revolutionary celebrations. Seemingly re-polished lulling regression and stagnant oppression. To believe that one person’s uniquely exclusive perspective should decide what’s best for all women, seems grotesquely monarchal. The thought that one woman with the ability to change things for the better would consider staying loyal to her brand for a potential Apple or Amazon buy out brings me to tears of frustrating disappointment. If only for a title and making history, would it not be a grander history to make if one helmed female executive power within the industry? Actually hired women of colour and created an integral community of female leaders. Imagine what historical culture shift and advancement could be birthed, what honour her name, but more importantly, Vogue, the brand as a whole, would possess. Perhaps I have only myself to blame for holding such women to so high an expectation.
