Indholdsfortegnelse for September 2023 i Vogue

When Francis Kurkdjian was a boy, a friend of his mother would often visit his house. The friend, Françoise, was a modéliste for Christian Dior—a model-maker who translated the sketches from the master designer into roughed-up toiles. “She would talk about how Jean Cocteau had tried to get a wardrobe filled with white mink,” Kurkdjian says, “or she’d show me how to pin fabric.” Françoise, now in her 80s, has twice visited Kurkdjian’s offices at Dior, where he has been installed since 2021 as perfume creation director at Christian Dior following a four-year stint in the broader LVMH ecosystem and several decades at the helm of his eponymous fragrance house, Maison Francis Kurkdjian. One of Kurkdjian’s first projects was to develop a fragrance that rivals the bestselling scent J’adore, created…

I first remember visiting Glyn Cywarch with my then fiancé, Francis. It must have been about 1984. I remember the drive there, across the two mountain ranges between the town of Harlech and our house in Shropshire. And I remember thinking how it got more and more impossibly romantic on the way, with Snowdon, the deep valleys, and then great tidal waves of mountains coming toward you—and the sea. From a distance you could see Harlech Castle to the southwest, which stood out like a little broken tooth on the promontory. Francis’s father, William David Ormsby Gore, the fifth Baron Harlech (just David to friends), and his wife, Pamela Harlech, had invited us to dinner, and I was a bit wide-eyed about the whole thing. Pamela had refurbished Glyn Cywarch’s…

Fantasy Land “Arriving at Glyn Cywarch on a sunny afternoon is like walking into some kind of foxglove fairy tale.” So says photographer Sean Thomas, who in June traveled to the wildly romantic Welsh manor house where the Harlech family has lived for hundreds of years. In “Pure Imagination” (page 306), Amanda Harlech (pictured at left in 1992, riding her horse Joyita across Glyn Cywarch’s lush grounds) describes the estate’s evolution over the last half century—and, with help from her daughter, Tallulah, styles some of fall’s most frolicsome looks on a gaggle of their friends. “I remember looking at the two of them when they were unpacking the boxes of clothes with all of that Vogue wrapping tape,” Thomas says. “I thought to myself how wonderful it must feel to…

Shara Hughes, whose invented landscapes have intoxicated me since I saw one nearly 10 years ago, is at a turning point. At 42, she’s getting married to her longtime partner and fellow artist, Austin Eddy. She is making work for her Los Angeles debut, in September, at the David Kordansky Gallery, and she is on the verge of signing with a another, top-tier gallery. Hughes and Eddy recently bought half a town house, with a garden, in the Greenpoint section of Brooklyn. They’re getting a Boston terrier puppy, tentatively named Puppet, to replace Hughes’s much-loved Chicken Nugget. And she’s thinking hard about saying goodbye to landscape as her main subject. “There’s a big transition coming,” Hughes tells me. It’s mid-May and we’re in her Brooklyn studio, which is a seven-minute…

At the Salone del Mobile fair last April, design enthusiasts filtered into Marni’s Milanese showroom, an industrial space whose concrete floors had been softened with swaths of white fabric draped from ceiling to wall and dabbed with faded citron- or blush-colored patches. In this makeshift tent, a sprawling table for 100 was set, the surrounding milky-white chairs seemingly covered in papier-mâché. Botanical sketches, made directly on the tablecloth, appeared to continue on the plates and saucers. The scene immediately sent up a flare for Marni loyalists. Though the Italian house has sporadically offered various items of furniture and homeware over the years through its line of offbeat woven accessories made by artisans in Colombia, it had yet to offer anything to serve entrées on or pour coffee into. Launching this…

The September 1953 wedding of Jacqueline Lee Bouvier to Senator John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a huge to-do. In the New York Times’s front-page report the following day, amid notes on the guest list (politicians from across the northeast; names like Vanderbilt and Gimbel) was a long description of Miss Bouvier’s splendid silk taffeta wedding dress, “made with a fitted bodice embellished with interwoven bands of tucking, finished with a portrait neckline, and a bouffant skirt.” Left unidentified was the designer of that dress—and another 15 ensembles for the bridal party: Ann Lowe, who was nonetheless well-known within that rarefied milieu. “I’m an awful snob,” Lowe (circa 1898–1981) told Ebony magazine in 1966. “I do not cater to Mary and Sue. I sew for the families of the Social Register.” “Ann…

I’M SPENDING THE morning with Zadie Smith, and she’s taking me to a cemetery. It’s Kensal Green Cemetery, to be exact, the largest one in London. (The interred include Thackeray and a few minor royals which, Smith informs me, is the sign of a “respectable” graveyard.) “Ready to get our legs stung?” she asks, as we veer off the gravel path and plunge into thick undergrowth. I’m more concerned about Smith, who is dressed in denim dungaree shorts, a black tank top—“Walmart,” she says apologetically—and Palmaira sandals that look pretty timeworn. Will the literary establishment forgive me if I let one of its finest living novelists trip over an overgrown tombstone and sprain her ankle? Smith—now 47, having spent the last few decades briskly dispensing of the condescending literary ingenue…

On a balmy Thursday night in June, Sophia Jaramillo, a recent Los Angeles transplant to New York City who has quickly found herself among a new wave of street style stars, celebrated her 23rd birthday with a “pastel prom”–themed celebration. Jaramillo decorated her fourth-floor Bushwick walk-up with curtains of holographic tinsel and served a heart-shaped cake bedecked with undulating squiggles of creamy frosting. On her nails she wore a rainbow set of press-ons in hues evocative of a bag of Jelly Bellies—piña colada for the ring finger, cotton candy for the pinkie—and across her eyes, a swipe of sky blue shadow. Jaramillo is into “the Sofia Coppola Marie Antoinette aesthetic,” she tells me. “Everyone’s really liking more soft tones. That’s something that’s just kind of naturally happened.” Of course, nothing…

Table of Contents: 87: Coat; balenciaga.com. 108: Blouse; michaelkors.com. Cover Look: 108: On Evangelista: coat; michaelkors.com. Shoes; daccori.com. On Crawford: dress; bottegaveneta.com. Shoes; us.sergiorossi.com. On Turlington: jacket, skirt, and shoes; versace.com. On Campbell: dress; prada.com. Gloves; paularowan.co.uk. Shoes; rogervivier.com. Manicurist: Megumi. Manicurist for Naomi Campbell: Candice Idehen. Tailor: Lars Nordensten for Lars Nord Studio. Editor’s Letter: 122: Top left photo: On Turlington: blazer; michaelkors.com. Cartier bracelet; Cartier boutiques. On Campbell: bodysuit; michaelkors.com. On Crawford: bodysuit, skirt, and belt; michaelkors.com. On Evangelista: coat; therow.com. John Smedley sweater. Falke tights; falke.com. Cartier ring; Cartier boutiques. Hair, Eugene Souleiman; makeup, Stephane Marais using Dior Beauty; makeup for Naomi Campbell, Adam Fleischhauer. Manicurist: Megumi. Manicurist for Naomi Campbell: Candice Idehen. Tailor: Lars Nordensten for Lars Nord Studio. 138: Top right photo: bodysuit, skirt, and…

Not long after my last breakup, at lunch with friends, talk turned to my love life. One pal suggested I try “dating an American.” (My ex is English.) Another retorted, “or maybe a European.” We laughed. Conversation shifted. Later, as I waited for the subway, an ad for a European dating site appeared in my Instagram feed. I had, I think, the reaction typical of these digital times: a frisson of disquiet—they’re listening—followed by a shrug of bemused resignation. What can you do? My train arrived; I got on with my day. The ad began to follow me around. The more it appeared, the more it struck me as fishy—too soft-focus; too sincere. What was the scam? One night, curiosity got the better of me: I entered some basic information—email…

Like so many things in life, it boils down to a commitment issue. Are you ready to go under the knife—or should we say scissors—daring your hairdresser to chop a fringe high above your eyebrows, quelling the words strangling your throat, the voice that says, It’ll take years to grow these things out! Or do you grit your teeth, shut your eyes, and dream that when you open them you will swing around in the barber’s chair looking like Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina? Fraught and terrifying as the prospect of cutting shorties might be, the micromini bang is undeniably having a moment. Sometimes they skew edgy and subversive, like Bella Hadid’s spiky and gelled wisps for Marc Jacobs’s latest eyewear campaign, or more classic, like Emily Ratajkowski’s and Olivia Rodrigo’s…

Not long ago, the plastic surgeon Sam Rizk, MD, had a prospective patient come in for a consultation. Rizk aims to please; he sees solutions where others see weak chins. But then the patient showed him her ideal visage—a series of snapshots filtered into anatomical impossibilities. “I was like, ‘You know, there are certain things under the jawline that are necessary for survival,’” he explains. “ ‘The windpipe? You need that to breathe.’ ” He could not give her what she wanted—not if she wanted to be able to keep chewing her food. (She did.) America is now in the grips of a jaws craze not seen since the summer of 1975 when a killer shark was on the loose off the shores of New England. Amazon peddles thousands of…

Susie Boyt’s Loved and Missed (New York Review Books) is a disarming and heartrending little book—little in the sense that the scale is small and the text less than 200 pages. It is the story, essentially, of a grandmother raising her granddaughter when her addict daughter relinquishes parental control. Ruth—the grandmother—is proud, exacting, strong, insecure, and damaged; she pours all this into raising the baby, Lily, who grows up under her watch. Ruth saves Lily, but her granddaughter returns the favor, giving her love and purpose. Like a painterly miniature, Loved and Missed contains a wide-ranging emotional landscape within its precise and intricate scenes. Boyt packs her writing with such intensity it is sometimes difficult to read; there’s no filler here, just the soaring and plunging sensations that come along…

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Givenchy bag Fall fashion has us quite literally clutching pearls: Whether baroque, freshwater, or glass, they’ve been turning up on the season’s most-wanted handbags, shoes, and fine jewelry pieces—at least a few of them likely inspired by the many pearled pieces in “Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty” at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. This leather bucket bag by Givenchy, aptly named the Shark Lock, is the catch of the season: a top-handle purse featuring tentacle-like strands of pearls in various sizes—and a shearling upper portion as frothy as a wave lapping up on a very fashionable shore. Chanel boots For fall, creative director Virginie Viard offers the maison’s iconic cap toe on a subtly lug-soled boot in two tones—a grained calfskin in pure white and a glossy black patent.…