I nearly laughed myself silly last night. The January fashion magazines are so thin I figured I could gobble them up in one sitting. What makes a magazine thin (for the most part) is a lack of ads. January is notorious for no ads to be had. What ads there were, were hysterical.
First off came Marc Jacobs. This was worth pointing out to the husband, although it was preaching to the choir. He thinks fashion is pretty silly anyways, although he is nothing but sweet when it comes to my obsession. Does Marc really think we are going to tie our hair to our necks, don clunky trainers and throw on a glitter trash bag? I told the husband to tie me down if he ever sees me heading out the door in that get-up.
Who the heck is Marc kidding? Am I in on the joke, or is the joke on me? Granted there has been some fashion that I said I would never wear. I've learned to never say never. Pleated pants come back as the world turns. Shoulder pads are waiting in the dresser drawers. What the heck?
If it isn't the fashion it is the ads themselves. Alexander Wang's shoe ad is a mystery that I care not to solve. Chanel's mustachioed model is an homage to... whom? Galliano? The whole thing has me flummoxed and not in a good way.
Okay, okay. I do have a certain fondness for Dolce & Gabbana's ad campaign with the donnas and their lovely boys, although one of them does appear to be a priest. This may not be as far afield as you think. Last summer in Italy I discovered that priests can be models as well.
|Priests of Italy 2014 calender; Father September is my fave|