DarinLand: ‘Runway of the Dead’

by Darin Lowery

I’m still laughing.

When the mailman dropped off the latest issue of Vanity Fair magazine the other morning I brewed an industrial-sized pot of coffee and began reading. It’s a terrific magazine- glossy and luxe, with offbeat, quirky articles on the Social X-Ray crowd. Unfortunately, they have a propensity for featuring dead celebrities- and those who emulate them- on the monthly covers.

Printed content doesn’t begin until page 118: the preceding pages are all moody, expensive fashion shots which make for a hefty haul. I’m glad I didn’t decide to lug it to the bathroom.

I have to tell you, though- leafing through the various ads left me surprisingly chilled. Both the Calvin Klein and the Gucci ads feature nimble talent with legs spread  w  i  d  e, something so beyond provocative it’s discordant. The Donna Karan ad- sleek and retro- has a model who apes a screen siren on steroids just before a drug induced road rage incident.

The whirring sound you hear is Our Miss Coco spinning in her grave. The Chanel shot of an anorexic model in a white fringe/chenille/mastodon wool mélange was staged on a peeling fire escape, and she looks a shot away from OD’ing on ennui. Jackie Kennedy wore Chanel, for God’s sake.

And then there’s my fave: the grainy and over-lit Marc Jacobs’ ‘vampires at dawn’ snaps- waifs in shimmering evening gowns; drawn and drained, dehydrated and ravenous. I know ‘Twilight’ is still hot- at least this month- but come on.

Perhaps none of these girls eat- maybe they really are Lugosi’s Children of the Night. The boys look almost as bad, although the Perry Ellis shot is, if not X-rated, certainly exhilarating. However, a spread of Tommy Hilfiger pics read as though everyone braked at the Salvation Army, slipped into anything handy, and then, drunk, slept in their cars until the cameras started clicking. Don’t get me wrong: I mix plaids, stripes and tie-dye all the time, but it works on me because I’m older and most folks assume I’m losing my eyesight.

The most disturbing images, however, are the Hugo Boss ads. These models look embalmed. Double-checking, I made sure I wasn’t reading Mortuary Digest. Their skin is waxy and the hair looks like cast resin. And those eyes! Fixed, glazed and looking very much like beach glass or something ocular from the undertaker’s cabinet. Even their hands have an odd twist, an unnatural turn, and the poses are stiff and cold.

At least the Guess ads, though tarty, feature someone who seems to enjoy a couple of lamb chops now and then. While I understand the concept of ‘attitude’ in popular culture, can’t some of these folks at least crack a smile occasionally? Put me in Armani and pay me ten grand and Kiddo, I’d be beaming.

So here’s a challenge to Vanity Fair- and Elle, GQ, Vogue and Marie Claire: start featuring talent who look more down to earth as opposed to otherworldly. Hefty chicks look hot in halter tops. A silk tee over a tight beer belly makes a guy look like he knows the difference between a gym and a church. Cute kids? Send ‘em to Botox Camp and give us earnest, nerdy science students with braces.

As for skinny, mid-century guys like me? I wanna keep laughing. Forever.

Or at least until the end of the runway.