The Eyebrow Chronicles

I could buy tops till the cows come home. If I were buying things, that is. Actually, last night I dreamed about a cow coming home. In said dream, I went to pick up my pet cow from the vet. She was as wide and well-stuffed as a sofa. I wondered if I should ride her home but decided against it on the grounds that I didn’t know how she would behave in traffic.

Anyway.

Bottoms are a different story, especially trousers. So hard to get the right fit! And when oh when will harem pants go away? Not for some time, I fear: Topshop and Marks and Sparks just showed next year’s collections to the press, and M&S is banking on “the new pyjama pant” being the next big thing. How does it differ from the plain old pyjama pant? Well, I bet it will cost a lot more. The best solution might be just to stop getting dressed. Or, better yet, stop getting out of bed.

harem scare 'em

J. Crew recently told me that if I thought I couldn’t “do skinny,” I might be mistaken. So I went into the Time Warner Center store to test this hypothesis. I tried on a pair of ankle stretch toothpicks, which sounds like a form of torture for mice but translates as short, stretchy, and tight.

mouse torture instruments

Surprise: there is some truth in advertising. I thought I couldn’t do skinny, and there I was, doing skinny! Bigger surprise: they only looked good from the calf up. I guess I can do skinny but I can’t do short. They would probably look SUPER HOT with preposterous heels. And a white ribbed tank top, dark roots, crumbling trailer in the b.g., loser boyfriend named Darryl Wayne a blur on the horizon as he makes off with my welfare check in his beat-up Mustang.

Dang, I shoulda bought them jeans!

Inside the Teen Vogue closet

My friend David Page recently posted an article on The Traveler’s Notebook entitled “Do Freebies Undermine Honesty in Travel Writing?” It’s a thought-provoking and beautifully-written piece which sparked a lively online discussion. Apparently, freelancers for the NYT’s Travel section have to agree never to accept freebies, even when writing for another outlet. The idea is to breed a morally incorruptible, fiercely independent journalistic stable. The reality, given that most freelancers also have to write for publications that can’t or won’t cover their expenses, is that this policy makes it very hard for those without independent means to make travel writing a career.

I can’t help drawing a comparison to fashion writing, where the proliferation of freebies may be one of the main attractions for many hopeful young Wintour-Wannabes. Obviously, the average style story isn’t likely to come with the same kind of tab as a travel piece about trekking in Nepal. But I think that the questions about who should pay for what and the ramifications of that raised by David’s piece resonate far beyond the travel pages. With old and new media mud wrestling in a shallower revenue stream, do you have to be a mad man (or woman) to go into journalism?

I have never heard of a style journalist turning down a freebie. But it’s just clothes and cosmetics, right? It’s all frivolous, empty, and totally subjective anyway! Who cares if glossy mags are basically catalogs that readers/consumers have to pay for, while most fashion and beauty blog posts are press releases that publicists don’t (except with the odd free purse or powder compact)? I do care, actually; as David suggests, it’s hard to write well and sell a product at the same time. That’s why advertising is so lucrative. If I really wanted to do that, I should probably be begging to be hired at BBDO, not browsing “job” listings where established cosmetics companies offer to pay bloggers $15 per 300-word post. I kid you not. But hey, you probably get free face cream!

There’s already more than enough writing out there online and on newsstands that’s been sucked dry of all liveliness by the need to sell ads. While I’m not getting freebies, beholden to commercial interests, or on the payroll of an organization that is, I may as well say exactly what I want. Better that than acting as if I were subject to the same restraints as someone writing for a major commercial media outlet just in case I might be in that position again sooner or later. For some reason this makes me think of self-basting turkeys, which I always imagine climbing obediently into a roasting pan and offering helpful advice on the oven temperature. If the regurgitated press release is the norm in style blogging, we are all in danger of forgetting that there are other ways to write.

Vive la independence! Uggs are vile. Marc Jacobs’ clothes are unflattering to women. Sleep, sunscreen, and water will do a hundred times more for your skin than Crème de la Mer.

I might or might not sell my soul (send offers here), but I certainly won’t give it away.

Next: the freebie-eschewing frontline of fashion writing freedom fighters.