Friday, July 17, 2009

Christy Turlington in Vogue

Yay! Finally, a decent cover. My favorite model graces this month's (August 2009) cover of the magazine that is getting worse with every issue. Last month, it was Ms. It's Not Hard For Me To Fall In Love (coughwithmarriedmencough) Sienna Miller. A boring and horrible cover that I didn't even post. Hopefully, I'll remember to put it up tomorrow if anyone even cares.

This month Vogue presents its annual Age Issue, an attempt at pigeonholing women into their particular age category because we all know that that number is what defines us right? Right. Thanks Vogue. I am morphing into a confident, secure and intelligent woman with your ever helpful guidance.

Just like the Body Issue, the Age Issue is a disgrace. I mean, come on, do we really need to define women based on how old they are? Isn't it enough that Hollywood makes us all feel over the hill at thirty, anyway? Now the fashion magazines are joining the party, belittling women by making them feel too old and thereby irrelevant. And if you think this Age Issue is a celebration of women at any age, you're mistaken. As soon as the issue hits stands and mailboxes, women all over the country are frantically flipping to their age category, hoping a beautiful, young-looking woman was chosen to represent them. Then, they can feel "okay" about themselves. Sad.
Honestly, if I see another cover line that states "Fabulous at Forty" or something similar, I will stick my head in an oven. When did 40 become so old that we have to heap praise upon anyone who reaches that age and manages to look remotely human? I didn't realize that we were all supposed to drop dead at 39. Just stamp an expiration date on our foreheads and get it over with.

On a happy note, if you're over 35 and don't want to commit suicide, you've won. Congratulations.

1 comment:

  1. That woman looks a bit like a fish.

    I've decided to lie about my age. Instead of trying to figure out what in-between age I am (27 was a tough year), I'm just going to go up by increments of five. Therefore, this year I will be 35, not 32. And then the next year I'll be 40. And I will continue to not wear makeup or own more than three pairs of shoes, and people will be shocked that I think that most differences between the sexes are societal, not biological. And then they can die from botulism/Botox.