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Jezebel has a delightful layout from French Vogue's April issue in which motherhood gets a grand sendup. Ah, ze French. So naughty. Lovely lithe, model-of-the-moment Lily Donaldson stomps about smoking cigarettes and ostensibly caring for her "baby." Clad in pink hot pants and skyscraper heels, the model tosses the tot into the air without a care, blows toxic smoke into its cherubic face, and tests the bottle milk on her arm with a stance that suggests she's fondly reminiscing upon her pre-baby heroin addiction. Not to mention, she's got another bun in her designer-dud-clad oven. Shot by Patrick Demarchelier but born from the dangerous mind of French Vogue editor-in-chief Carine Roitfeld, the pictures are a hilarious poke at one of the world's last sacred cows—motherhood. Perhaps if American magazines weren't so whimpy about getting provocative, they wouldn't be dying in droves.
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I love this "We Can Do It!" T-shirt featuring Michelle Obama. The original star of J. Howard Miller's iconic poster has been widely misidentified as Rosie the Riveter; in fact, it was Geraldine Doyle. In any case, the first lady makes a suitable replacement as the 21st-century woman who has it all: brains, beauty, and brawn.
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You know, there's something about the whole lipstick level concept that doesn't make any sense to me. The theory is that lipstick is an economic indicator; supposedly during economic downturns, women will purchase comparatively cheap lipsticks rather than buy high-end frocks. But the whole thing seems like fuzzy logic to me. Either that, or from years of freelancing, every trend piece of this sort reads more blatantly as evidence of a reporter's ability to sell a so-called story that may or may not exist than evidence of an actual, real-world trend. What is more than evident if one surveys the latest fashion "trend" stories is that 21st century women are completely schizophrenic. Flats are in. Actually, high-heels are the new black. They're bringing sexy back. Wait, no, in fact it's really all about the return of masculinity by way of the '80s power-shoulder. Tie me up; tie me down. What's the word for what comes after postfeminist? Schizofeminism? The real trend piece is about whatever internal conflict is raging within women, not what's going on economically.
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Now the Times suggests the recession may spell the end of beauty as we know it, particularly the 21st-century plastic kind. Apparently, the economic downturn has resulted in fewer women getting elective boob jobs and sushi-party Botox injections. God forbid that on top of a skyrocketing unemployment rate, America will be further reduced to suffer the return of sagging breasts and smile lines. Will this recession stop at nothing? As a marketing adviser to plastic surgeons queries rhetorically, "If you are going for buttock implants, do you really need that?” For some, the answer may increasingly be: "No. I do not need those buttock implants." While I'm saddened to think that women who dream of looking like the bolted-on-breasted and frozen-faced cast members of The Real Housewives of Orange County may have their dreams deferred, perhaps more women will turn to alternative beauty therapies, instead—yoga to combat gravity's pull, cosmetic acupuncture treatments that have been used since the Sung Dynasty—and grow old gracefully for less.
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