Deftly spotted by model and twitter account holder, Emma Jane Martin, my first reaction was horror.
Sure I've been known to bundle the occasional lightly soiled garment in an Hermès before foraying into the Laundry Room of The Damned below my best friend's condo, but willfully subjecting my beloved French twill to the indignity of grease spots is a pastry too far.
Odds are it was a reworking of Diana Vreeland's famous recurring "Why Don't You?" column for Harper's Bazaar where DV entertained readers with suggestions like washing their blonde children's hair in dead champagne. Incidentally, the book Diana Vreeland: The Bazaar Years, compiles over 100 of her suggestions in a beautiful compact art book that's currently selling at a surprisingly princely sum, although I'm positive I bought my copy for two dollars at my newspaper's biannual in-house book sale.
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Still, that was 1936 and it seems strangely tone deaf now, even if most of the readers do get the reference (I promise you they don't). Vogue, even British Vogue from whence this buttery aberration came, isn't precisely known for having a sense of humor these days, and no one at the magazine has the editorial élan of the late Mrs Vreeland.
Also, the tee-hee bad girl cutesy-ness of "audaciously" is sticking in my craw, but I'm not sure why.
Is it because they're essentially suggesting purposefully destroying an expensive work of textile art which is just vulgar on every possible level? Or is it because *gasp* buying pastry is such a normally scandalous act that it must be done with a required dose of shame (and then eaten after lights out, under the blanket with a flashlight)?
Ugh. This is why I don't read fashion magazines, and now I want some pastry.