For me, there is only one contestant. On the newsagent shelf the glossies elbow eachother, each vying to be grabbed by fashionista fingers. Yet amidst this jostling, there is one that stands serene. So synonymous with style, so infamous, that it doesn’t even need to partake in the competition. Nose in the air, this magazine flaunts its heritage; 117 years of glamour.
Each month when the grey parcel arrives on my doormat, my heart races as I greedily tear the plastic. Because I know that beneath this inocuous looking packaging will lie an image of perfection, the front cover of my favourite magazine. A deep breath, a satisfied sigh. This magazine never disappoints.
Next comes the flicking as I consume the photographs. Fashion story after fabulous fashion story, strokable pages of covetable clothes, Hollywood starlets styled in glorious shoots and beautiful people living beautiful lives.
After the flicking, comes the devoted reading of every page. This is the caviar of fashion writing. The articles traverse a wide range of subjects but there is a thread that holds them all together. Be it a piece on Tom Ford’s directorial debut or the latest craze in footwear, style is the common theme and stylish is the writing.
No other magazine holds the same prestige.The world-class models, the best photographers, the most renowned writers... they all want to grace the pages of this glossy. Each issue is filled with such talent you can almost feel it sparking off the page.
This is a publication that has always been ahead of the game; Baron de Meyer’s work for the magazine in the 1900s pioneered photography, popularising an initially less prestigious art form. During the second world war Lee Miller was employed as a correspondant for this magazine, supplying the readers with images from the front line. More than just a magazine, it forms part of our social fabric, reflecting what is happening in the world.
In times of trouble, it stands tall; a beacon of unwavering glamour. Things may be crumbling all around, but you can be sure that every month this magazine will offer the perfect escape. On a desert island, that is the comfort I would crave.
All things considered, there is only one. The glamorous, glorious, fabulous Vogue. And on second thoughts, I could always use the glitteringly glossy cover to attract attention from passing aeroplanes. What more could you need?