MulletProof
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any reason on why she was removed?.
Announcing... The 2nd Annual theFashionSpot Awards. Vote NOW via the links below:
Designer of the YearThank you for participating!
VOTING WILL CLOSE 27/12/2024 EOD!
there is also a 2-page photo of Marija Vujovic and Anouck Lepere by Elgort accompanying the De la Renta articleBerlinRocks said:the editorials were :
sparkle all day with Daria, Gemma and Natalia
Be boyish with Gisele
an article about Karl L. with a mini editorial with Trentini, Eugenia (?) and Julia (?)
than an article about Kidman's ad for #5
then article + editorial with Kate Moss
the 24/7 fur with Daria, Eugenia
then the Supermodels & Models editorial and article
then Oscar de La Renta, then Armani then the Couture Club (with Theyskens, Ghesquière, Elbaz and models : Hana, Raquel and Trentini)
then final editorial Say it with diamonds with Trentini
hope it helps
source | styleThe unsinkable Kate Moss is still the coolest model in the business. Here, the ravishing Brit rocks all night long in the season's leggiest dance looks.
Kate Moss speeds through the tea tables at Claridges, one of her favorite London bolt-holes (and scene of her "Beautiful and the Damned" thirtieth-birthday party last January) in a flurry of brown legs, tawny hair, and clanking charm bracelet, plunks herself on a dark corner banquette, and asks sweetly for a reviving glass of champagne. She's a not unreasonable ten minutes late, having just outrun the paparazzi, as she always must in her hometown. "It's all day long," she chirrups matter-of-factly. "I've had someone following me from ten o'clock till now." In her skimpy vintage tiger-print shirtdress (so short it could be a shirt) and roman sandals, she's working a sort of casual, seventies Capri-jet-set look but has—of course—thrown it on with the scrappy nonchalance that makes her so maddeningly, elusively glamorous. Kate's taste—her knack for digging out riveting, nonobvious clothes for every occasion, miles ahead of trend and with scant reverence for brands, and never, never appearing to try too hard—is a vast part of her fascination. So is the fast-living notoriety that keeps the tabloids forever on her tail. But we're not here to delve into that. Today we're going to chat about her career: why did Kate Moss—contradicting all the rules—make it to become the last great supermodel?
Because she wasn't supposed to be. When she first popped up in the Calvin Klein ads that made her name in 1993, Kate Moss was chosen precisely because she was the anti-supermodel, the shockingly undersize one-girl revolution that was going to put a stop to the glamazonian age of eighties excess. Instead—which was funny—she turned out to be the one to carry the flame of model stardom to the next phase, first igniting interest in grunge, and then proving she could take it far beyond that to mold herself into every twist of fashion since.
She hadn't any notion, in the beginning, that modeling could even be a career. "Not at all," she says, shrugging. "But I knew it was better than being in Croydon!" Famously, Kate was a schoolgirl from a mundane south London middle-class suburb when she was scouted by the model agent Sarah Doukas of Storm in the Virgin Atlantic standby queue in 1988. Celebrity didn't arrive overnight, though—it was more like three years of schlepping round London on the underground and doing amateur shoots after school. "I was testing and stuff when I was fourteen, and then I did teenage magazines," Kate remembers. But things started slowly to gather momentum: She met the photographer Corinne Day when she was fifteen and began shooting for the now-defunct London style magazine The Face. "I was quite shy, believe it or not, then. I was definitely more aware about my body, didn't want to take my clothes off. When I was fifteen, with Corinne, I cried. I was so self-conscious! We used to fight all the time. Those shoots would take weeks and weeks. Nobody was getting paid; it was in my school holidays."
Day's 1990 cover of The Face that showed Kate laughing in an American Indian feather headdress on an English beach looked so fresh and young that a ripple of interest reached New York. But Kate was so marginal a candidate for regular shoots that when she arrived in the city, a magazine editor dubiously shuffled her up against the wall to verify her height: five foot seven. Kate also had legs that weren't ideally straight and revealed a funny, sharp eyetooth when she giggled. Yet she was also compellingly herself, unaffected by any coaching or prepping. "Nobody really tells you what to do. There wasn't any teaching, and that was quite good," she reckons, "because that's why I was natural. I was just like a normal teenager."
The Calvin contract arrived when she was seventeen, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the scale of it. "I started getting really nervous—panic attacks. I couldn't get out of bed," she remembers. "It didn't really hit me at first, and then I thought I was really ill, and the doctor gave me valium." She was helped by the security of living with the family of her photographer boyfriend Mario Sorrenti. "When I first started seeing him, he lived at home on Twelfth Street. I was there before I was working a lot. I loved it, living with a great New York Italian family." The Obsession campaign—stills and a TV commercial, which she shot with Sorrenti—is still one of her favorite defining moments. "Because we were going out, it was such a personal thing that became so public. I suppose that was a turning point. We were just on holiday. I love those pictures still."
With Calvin, Kate became instantly famous—infamous, too—throughout America, the girl/woman who was dubbed "waif." "I was on every bus!" she squeaks. "And then there was the critique of me being too skinny; every newspaper was like, this is anorexic, heroin chic. I think my name became associated with all of that for a long time." That soupçon of controversy, however, was a vital ingredient in Kate's hip, new-generation fame. "Yeah, to a certain extent, people talking about you helps," she says. "But it didn't help with a lot of other things, like renting apartments." She learned to deal with the press by ignoring it. "They'd have their story before they walked in, anyway, so it didn't matter what I said," she says with a shrug. These days, since she's separated from Jefferson Hack, it's only intensified. When the intrusion involves their daughter, Lila Grace, Kate turns into a mother tiger. "When I had the baby, that's when [the press attention] really kicked in, and it was a nightmare. Nightmare. When I had her, I didn't leave the house for a month, I was so freaked out. That's when I started losing it, started whacking cameras. But they love it—they're kind of bullies. They love winding you up."
That's the downside of fame and of living in London, where the relentlessness of the paps is notorious. But if Kate didn't give them what they want—i.e., if she didn't look fantastic—they wouldn't be bothering. For the truth is that a snap of Kate on her way somewhere has to be the best free fashion photograph on earth. Her incredible personal style is what put Kate Moss up there on the Olympus of supermodeldom, inhabiting that special peak of fame reserved for the few who have crossed over to become pop-cultural goddesses. The way she looks at parties, on the street, at Glastonbury (lemon-chiffon vintage dress; vintage eighties Westwood toga dress; Uggs before anyone else; Lanvin for her post-pregnancy reappearance), has arguably wielded a bigger influence than any of her thousands of professional photographs.
So what made her so fluent in fashion? "Even before I went up to London I was always in jumble sales and Oxfam and not getting things that were on the rack" she remembers, "because I didn't like what was on the rack at the time—kind of eighties stuff." That instinct, a form of fashion self-education, is also what made her good on set, always open to what people were putting on her and what it meant. "I always liked it when they did what they wanted to do. I was never, 'I don't like that!' I liked them creating on me." She'd throw herself into ideas. "Most things are referenced, aren't they?" she says. "And because I'd been out with a photographer, we'd look at books all the time, so I did know a lot of images. Fashion, you know."
By the late nineties, the ultimate heyday years of exuberant fashion performance, Kate was having a brilliant time starring on the runway. "I loved it. When I met Naomi [Campbell] and Christy [Turlington], they took me under their wing; we had so much fun that first season. The Galliano shows! It was amazing, like a high—the adrenaline, and 'You're on, and you're going to be this and do that!' John tells you your character, and you just get so into it because of the energy." Not to mention the after-show scene. "It was Versace, and parties; every night there was something you had to go to—and then you had to be up at six. I mean, it was fun!"
The thrill lasted, she says, for about three seasons. "And then it got a bit dull. Also the shows became closer and closer together, and it became just so exhausting. I started not to enjoy it." By that time, Kate had shown she could morph into any fashion image she cared to personify—polished and sophisticated for a Richard Avedon Versace campaign, a hothouse decadent for Helmut Newton's Saint Laurent ads; she'd transcended waifdom to become a contradictory chameleon chiefly recognizable for being herself.
Then she quit for a year. "I just got bored, and I was over it." It didn't last. "Slowly, I was, Oh, I'll do this one, that one. And now I work with so many people I've known for so long, it's like going to see your mates. We hang out and do pictures—it's fun. I do still like the creative process and getting pictures together and finding a way of modeling." she grins. "I like going to work, having something to do."
Without doubt, though, the modeling times have changed drastically since the high nineties, which is something she noticed when she stuck her toe back on the runway for Balenciaga recently. Lowering her voice to a mock-whisper, she confides, "I mean, the girls at the shows go to bed and have a swim. . . . I was shocked! I was like, 'what's going on tonight, then?' and they're all going to bed! This is what my booker tells me in Paris: nobody goes out. A new economics rules the scene now. These days I think it's because there are so many new girls coming so quickly; they don't last more than a season, so I suppose they think, To stay where I am, I'm going to have to take care of myself. Be on time at work and get sleep." She laughs. "When I was eighteen, I was, La-la-la—two hours, fine! It didn't affect me really then."
Not that she exactly has a reputation as an early-nighter these days, either. Kate keeps the London papers well entertained with all sorts of girly mischief. "I've just been to McQueen and got some shorts for Glastonbury," she says, laughing. "And I'm planning something lamé for Elton's White Tie and Tiara Ball. Jean Harlow hair, don't you think? We're going round to Sam Taylor-Wood's to get dressed." As a good-time girl, Kate Moss is Britain's national treasure, in fact. She's branched out recently into a little singing (in a Primal Scream video) and dancing (with Michael Clark in Alexander McQueen's "Black" show), but it's not as if she's looking for a second career on stage or screen. A model, she declares, "is what I definitely am." And then she's off out again, ready to dodge the paparazzi.
Will the world every see the like of Naomi, Linda, and Christy again? Maybe not says Sally Singer--and maybe that's not such a bad thing.
"I had the best time; I had the best girls; I knew deep down that I would never have that time again." Thus spake Didier Fernandez, superagent to the supermodels—Linda, Nadja, Amber—as he mournfully consumed a pain grillé at Balthazar one morning last June. I met with Fernandez to discuss the demise of the No-Surname-Required fashion model not only because he was integral to the Super phenomenon but also because his agency, DNA, represents many of the current crop of Surname-Required catwalk leaders: Natalia Vodianova, Karen Elson, and Hana Soukupova, among others.
No one, it would seem, was better placed to compare the new generation with the old. What he said was this: "The girls are now less involved in the process. They don't live for it. They do a great job and then they leave." The Supers, by contrast, "knew every new designer, every new photographer. Those people respected them for that and gave them more. That's a big part of their longevity." He added, with a certain Gallic decisiveness, "I always said I'm going to stop when they stop."
Also ,has anyone else seen the group photo of them on art and commerce? You can see Eugenia off in the corner, apparently the "cut" 10th girl.I wonder why she was taken out of the story.