My subscription arrived a whole two days after I saw it sat on the shelves in Tesco, and I certainly wasn't missing much (with the firm exception of Lachlan Bailey's story). The Rina Sawayama cover is atrocious is person, so dark, dreary and gothic for a month like July.
I've sat and leafed through the issue twice in a hope to find something remotely engaging, but there's just zero soul to this issue and little to no signs of Edward Enninful. The art direction nowadays feels sterile and devoid of creativity - tons of white space. I'm starting to feel as though British Vogue is very slowly but surely being stripped of its identity, and genuinely feel like I'm looking at a copy and paste issue of Italian or French Vogue.
Needless to say, Sacha Quenby by Lachlan Bailey is the absolute saving grace of this whole entire issue for me. The whole feature is the epitome of summer (a la the pages of Emmanuelle Alt's Vogue Paris) and I am 100% here for it. A shame about the other 222 pages, though.