Marion's book was funny, especially when one can guess upon whom some of the characters were based. It was gently savage in places. Some people didn't get the allegorical nature of the cake shop reveries. Put bluntly, she was taking the piss. However, her book didn't have the bitterness of, say, The Devil Wears Prada, which was of course heavily toned down when turned into a script and given the requisite Hollywood happy ending. Still, Marion Hume's experience in the top job at Oz Vogue was a textbook bad one, with friends who stabbed her in the back quite viciously - even by Planet Fashion's worst standards - and a directorship that left her out there for the wolves afterwards. So she sued them, won and then wrote a satirical book.
She had a hard time. I ran her Paris set-up and remember persuading Peter Lindbergh to shoot a cover for Oz Vogue. Now, this wasn't too hard as Peter and I know one another and he'd previously shot a cover for the mag but the sticking point was that Oz Condé Nast had stiffed his team for their expenses, including the hair and make-up by Odile Gilbert and Stéphane Marais respectively. Nevertheless, Peter Lindbergh knew that it would be a coup for me - and so did the others - so they did it. That's an example of the kind of people who get to the top in Fashion and stay there but without screwing people over. They're generous. Oh, you can choose to be a total sh1t and you can and often will make it but you'll be living under siege from all the people you dicked over on the way up. maybe you need to tell your friend that if she is, indeed, blanking you.
Anyway, Peter shot Rachel Roberts for the cover. And the working prints were fantastic. Rachel is a natural blonde - as opposed to an aircraft blonde - and has slightly frizzy hair and quite generous lips. With me so far? Good! Now, we had this hair stylist on the job and when I saw him approaching with the straightening irons, I headed him off. "But we usually straighten her hair...", said he. "No, let's have her as she is. She looks great and this is for Australian readers, you know, healthy, outdoors kind of people..." I replied, in my idealistic naivety.
Marion Hume loved the images. However, the publisher vetoed them. I got a call at stupid-o-clock saying that they wouldn't be used after all. As I had to tell Peter Lindbergh, I insisted upon a reason. I got one: the publisher - who happened to the sort of buttockclenching suburban English crypto-fascist who emigrated to places like Rhodesia and Australia back in the 1960s - had looked at them and pointed out that Vogue Australia's readers were white and that putting a black or a "dyed blonde half-caste" on the cover would kill sales.
He'd looked at Rachel Roberts with her full lips and frizzy hair and decided that she must be partly black. I am glad to say that he was sacked unceremoniously not long after this by Jonathan Newhouse who is no racist. I don't know if this episode figured in his sacking but it was by no means an isolated one during my time working for Oz Vogue. Marion Hume, as I said, had a tough time dealing with such attitudes there. But she did a good job, forcing the industry in Australia to take a long, hard look at itself.
Yes, it is indeed ironic...
PK