
This lady has Princess Diana's hair, and even faintly resembles her. Was the Vogue artist psychic?!?

Okay, and here, I misread the cover as, "Of Special Interest To The Hotness." This cover is all of the snooty things one might imagine about a lifetime of Voguery.

"And so I said, 'Percy, you sound a fool; why is it out of doors, but never in of doors,' and he feigned an apoplexy and did not speak to me for two weeks. It was rather invigorating for me."

This is the PERFECT night for intrigue, is it not? (Also, I love that there was a perceived need for an entire article on CORRECT LIVERIES.)

Do we think this is a Tub Frock, or a Dancing Gown? Or something in between?

Was it a "European interest" at this time to make three women share one gigantic hat?

This woman seems altogether too unaware that swans aren't always nice.

What ill wind is blowing her entire dress forward, but then her ribbons backward?

"How the hell do I wear this thing?!?"

It's the long jump, but FASHION.

"Don't cry for me, Voguentina."

At first I thought this lady was playing a withered old flute. (It's a parasol handle.) Then I noticed her ring, which reminds me eerily of the Princess Diana/Kate Middleton sapphire. I ASK AGAIN: Was there a psychic on staff?

This drawing right here feels like it's the soul of many a Kristen Wiig character on SNL. Just... something about the hands and the hair and the frenetic movement. It's the artist's rendering of Target Lady's spirit.

"Oh no! I hope Benedict is not struck down by lighting when he tries to scamper up the trellis."

Lady Jane was a favorite in society until she took up avian ventriloquism; after that, she was simply tolerated.

"Dear GOD, what are the neighbors DOING? I've not seen that position before."

"Do you think this is too large for a wedding bouquet?"

I wonder what magazine this is. (It actually makes me think of that old Egoiste commercial, where people run around yelling, "EGOISTE!!!!")

This is very evocative of feeling the summer sun on one's face.

"Yes, dearest, just an innocent game of solitaire. There is absolutely no body, er, I mean, nobody, hiding underneath my bustle.

This cover is very sharp and chilly.

It was a peaceful afternoon at the lake until one of the piranhas got her toes.

"I'll teach Mary Elizabeth to make overtures at my rally partner. One serve to my forehand and I'll return it so hard and so true that she'll need a corkscrew to get it out."

"Look! I'm on the cover of Cogue!"

"And look, I've invented the High Line, about 100 years early."

"BORING."

"Bye guys! Yes, I'm fine, I've got my island pants, see you in two weeks."

"It cost a fortune, I don't mind telling you, but I'm THRILLED with my new neck length."

This is the first portrayal of a Black person on the cover, or rather, the first that I could find. It does not happen again very often in the June batches -- which of course is not the truest portrayal because it excludes the other months of each year, but still. It also wasn't surprising, and that says a lot about Vogue.

I feel like one VOGUE was enough.

"Arthur, look, it's a whole WHEEL of sex toys."

"No, kid, you've got to SLAP the ball over the net. You'll never make the Olympics YOUR way."

This looks like a drowning.

DRAMATIC.

"But what IS Cogue magazine, Jasper?" "It's for celestial jump-rope champions."

"Goodness, I've stepped in shit."

"I poisoned his first wife, you know."

"OR DID YOU."

The NEW cosmetic surgery involves erasing your contours completely.

And, lo, a photo! She's holding that jewelry like it's an exotic salamander.

"SHIT that water is cold."

This is an appealing mood.

This is a desolate surrealist wasteland.

I guess it cheered up.
