Ooh La La, and all the jazz.

Carine Roitfeld makes me quiver in my shoes. She looks like the type of woman who could kill you just by looking at you, and if that didn't work and you were some sort of death-repelling ninja... then i think her 10 inch stilletos might get the better of you. And by stiletto i mean shoes, not knives, of course. 

Girl is FIERCE!. Like so fierce. She wears Balmain, for crying out loud. And she's 50! She's like a walking advertisement for France, what with her reed thing physique, always clutching a glass of red wine and wearing this season's best from the catwalk. She's not afraid to wear black on black, and it doesn't wash her out or make her look like an undertaker. In fact when she wears black on black an undertaker is what you'll be seeing next. 

Paris Vogue just shits all over the american counterpart. Though there will always be a place in my heart for UK Vogue whom i have saved up for every month since 2004 (yeah Alexandra Shulman, that is a lot of money i have put into your magazine, start taking some of my suggestions into account), I admit that Vogue Paris is actually one of the groundbreaking magazines of our times. Vogue has become a bit of a toothless tiger of late, playing it really safe with same old same old editorials and fashion features that make me yawn. Vogue Paris always pushes the envelope. Whether it be nudity, smoking and drinking in editorials, or my personal favourite; Raquel Zimmerman's August editorial where she stomped past PETA activists flipping them off... all whilst wearing fur.

And who styled this groundbreaking editorial? None other than Miss Roitfeld herself. And that is why she is to be so commended. Whilst Wintour hovers in her offices doing little other than sipping Evian and glaring at her assistants and Shulman deigns to write an article here or there, notably the one slamming Posh spice (see hit list, below) Carine actually takes an interest in the magazine that she single-handedly made cool again. She styles editorials, she takes part in shoots, she writes articles... In short her input to the magazine is not just in a painfully short letter from the editor, like some other vogue editors. In fact her stamp is all over the magazine. 

Vogue Paris has, arguably, become a magazine for Carine. Each editorial, with its leather, lace, ripped denim, bras showing, black black black, seems like Carine just opened her wardrobe and offered it to the models. THey would fit into the clothes of course, Carine is so so so so tiny. The picks for shopping each month are things you could conceivably see Carine shopping for herself. The cover models are all people you can imagine Carine having a conversation with herself. For any other editor, it wouldn't work. I mean, who wants to look like Anna Wintour, in all honesty. But this is Carine, and this is paris. People want to be Carine, and so they buy the magazine to sample what it's like to be the most fabulously chic editor of a magazine in the world. And all for the price of 4 euros. Bargain!

Thankyou, Carine, for being so fearless. And for raising a daughter who knows how to dress. So many people have forgotten how to do that nowadays (lindsay). 











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