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For most of my life,  Vogue magazine was completely unaccessable and irrelevant to me. The fashions were ridiculous and the prices obscene. It seems to have no applicability to real life (like deathmama recently explored in Reality vs Not Reality.

But I started to challenge myself with it, and I became pleasantly surprised.  The writing is legit.  The ads are gorgeous.  And the styles — while I may not see much to wear to the Tacoma Mall or on a trip to the pediatrician’s office — the styles are absolute.  If there’s a Platonic Form of contemporary Western Women’s Fashion, it is in Vogue.  Or, since I am an Existentialist, Vogue both creates and reflects the essence of Style. Vogue has all the designers and new trends, together in looks and layouts that can be as informative as they are cryptic.  To me, anyway.

But still – Vogue is weird. I took some pages from the July issue (by the time I got around to this, August was already on the stands).  It was fun so maybe I’ll do more of it.  The red writing on the left is my immediate, cynical reaction to a Vogue fashion spread.  The green on the right are my more thoughtful and open-minded imaginings as to what I can learn from this.

It’s ridiculous, but I’m not giving up.  There are moments I look at Vogue and can almost taste the greatness. Someday I might have it for breakfast.

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