I confess. . .

Readers, I realize that your image of me, your faithful blogger, is probably one of a girl surrounded by a messy pile of shoes, clutching her fists and proclaiming, "I DON'T care about models! I don't!" And that's not a completely inaccurate image, but you've probably noticed from my indignancy that I do sometimess notice models (but not very much!).

Perhaps I should specify a bit about my relationship with models--I love fashion photography, and I love fashion as art. Shalom Harlow in the Dior show? Wow. Lily Cole in just about anything? Also wow. I love unique beauty, I admire the performance of it, and while I don't have anything specifically against models, I do often think that the business is a bit f*cked up (censored for my younger readers--hope you appreciate it). Some people are naturally tall and thin. In fact, it seems to me that there is a good handful of models who, through exercise and eating somewhat carefully, can be rail-thin and healthy. But let's not kid ourselves: a hell of a lot of models stay rail thin through starving and vomiting, and that's not ok. It's not ok that we have a profession that encourages literally lethal behavior, and it's not ok that such an unnatural thing is setting the standard for beauty. I see no reason why Lily Cole shouldn't be on the runway--but I also see no reason why we can't accept more average-sized women as well. I know, I know, there's no fantasy there, and that's what people want. So maybe I don't have a solution; I'm just left with a love-hate relationship with modeling.

That explained, I have been noticing Agnes Deyn lately, and my, she is gorgeous. She wears clothing with a vengeance, and I like it.


And that is all.