Some Promises Are Obviously Meant to Be Broken

According to the gals over at Fashionista, Naomi signed a promise not to throw her phone while in the presence of Mama O's audience.

In other news, the body of Gayle King was found stuffed into a Louis Vuitton travel bag with a Blackberry wedged in her forehead. Naomi's people have "no comment."

I Had Dinner with Nelson Mandela, Thank You Very Much

No, thank you, Naomi. For everything you've done to promote awesomeness.

P.S. If anyone deserves a blood diamond, I think we can all agree it would be this tranny.

Cover It Up: A Stroll Through W Lane

Wandering through W Magazine's cover archive brought up so many memories. I can easily trace my fashion development with W's, as we both sprang into womanhood around the same time.

Premiering in September of 2001, at least one reason why its birth is muddled in the haze (this being another), I was but a sophomore in high school, taking baby steps through my first issues of Vogue.

Then this giant, modestly-priced number came along and I slipped into it as easily as Karlie Kloss into a couture bodysuit. Nearly ten years later, here we both are, a little worse for wear, but still actively turning it.

Below, in my not so humble opinion, are the greatest covers in W's short history, year by year.

2002

W's first great cover came a good 9 months into its inception. This was the first cover I actually remember hearing about, though it certainly wouldn't be the last buzzworthy cover for the mag. A post-klepto Winona, tussled hair, punk attitude and all, sporting her own ubiquitous T whose image is weirdly reminiscent of a young Mary Tyler Moore, sans the innocence or Dick van Dyke.

2003

Selma Blair, where are you? Her January 2003 cover is simple and perfect, with those GIANT mod eyelashes (that I would wear everyday if I could) and slightly agape mouth. Meanwhile, Pam Anderson strikes an all together completely different pose, giving windswept 80s sex pot.

2004

Androgyny, always a favorite topic in fashion, is given double exposure via Gisele's (hunching for her life) January 2004 cover and W's "Asexual Revolution" issue later that year.

2005

Karen Elson, MOVE! The Brangelina cover, the issue that really made W's one-letter name, is still one of their best. The 60-page Steven Klein shoot now seems eerily prescient, given the beaten up state of Angie's vagina. He was a bit off on the kids' shading, though.

2006

Probably the best year for W, I had trouble picking only four covers. Usually and openly not a fan of Cammy D, she looks AMAZING in the December 2006 issue. Mostly because it doesn't look anything like her. Meanwhile, Christina Ricci's stunning fur-trimmed hunch caused those uptight PETA assholes to wet themselves. And Meryl's and La Lohan's cover is still HILARIOUS.

2007

Someone I'm also not a fan of, Gwynny Paltrow, has never looked better, or more equine, than in September 2007. A month earlier, alien-robot couple, The Beckhams, had one of the sexiest shoots, perhaps ever and enough cannot be said about Naomi's photojournal. I'm still gagging over it.

2008

Little Orphan Annie Hathaway was about to hop on the Oscar train as a front-runner for her wonderful performance in Rachel Getting Married, and was having a serious moment. Though Hath lost, August cover girl, Pepe Cruz, snatched a trophy with the same delicate hand that's caressing her shoulder.

2009

Madonna and W have always had a great relationship, and thanks to W, the icon got another relationship out of the deal. After spinning her divorce into yet another publicity stunt, she began dating her barely legal co-star from the shoot. Somethings, thank god, never change.

2010

I'm still shocked.

A new era began at W this week, and hopefully more epic covers will follow in the years to come. However, this, will not cut it.

EDIT: Well, apparently W's been around since 1971. Who knew?

Feeling V(aguely)Asian...

I threw on a choppy white-blonde wig, took off my top and commenced to hunching.

One drink too many and suddenly Steven Meisel has me brandishing a riding crop and thigh high tranny boots.

A rare moment of serenity...sometimes I wonder how I got here and upon drawing a complete and utter blank, hurl a cell phone at the nearest overweight underling just to feel whole again.


Oh Russian Vogue, much like my Russian billionaire boyfriend, I've been inside you naked too many times to count...

T...W...Heeeeeeeeeeeey!

Strange Bedfellows?

T magazine editor, Stefano Tonchi is moving up in the alphabet, or down depending on how you read it, to edit W. Though we -- nor anyone, really -- have never paid much attention to the T. Aside from a Julianne Moore poke her face,that is.

But W! W has been a favorite of we AnA girls since...well, we were little AnA boys. They have featured some of our favorite editorials ever. Brad and Angie giving Aniston the middle finger. Naomi giving the world the middle finger. And more recently, Linda Evangelista giving the recession the middle finger.

Tonchi claims he wants to make the mag more "accessible" (so vague, or rather Vogue of a word) and "more of a general-interest style magazine, and less of a fashion-obsessed publication."

Kill me.

Who cares about accessibility (besides Si Newhouse of course)? W is the high fashion (more or less) equivalent of American Vogue. Sparring hunch to hunch, exposed nip to exposed nip with the far superior European oversized titles.

Not to mention, W is one of the few American mags that still puts models on its covers...

An end of yet another fashion era? Perhaps. I don't like to jump to conclusions, unless said conclusions include an open bar, so we'll see what Tonchi has in store. Expectations, though, are admittedly low.

You Can't Teach an Old Bitch New Tricks

Naomi is at it again. Thank God.
The super has allegedly attacked the driver of her Russian billionaire boyfriend, after he refused to tell her if the Commie was cheating on her.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting at work crying over my bank account.
When the authorities came to the scene, Naomi had already sprinted off in her stilettos.
The cops are now on the search for her and one can only guess she's already fled the country and is hiding out at Papa Azzedine's til this ugly mess blows over.
All I can say is, at least someone still knows how to be a supermodel. Long live the Queen!

Mourning Glory

Lee Alexander McQueen was laid to rest today and his impossibly glamorous friends payed homage to his impossibly glamorous career by not resting on their funeral laurels.

Superwomen, Kate and Naomi, were suitably fierce...

Meanwhile Daphne Guiness was subtlety itself in this flowing McQueen cape and veil.

What better way to say farewell -- except maybe a black armadillo heel?

Beating a Dead Naked Horse Akimbo

LOVE rolled out 8 more covers of models in their haute couture birthday suits. They're like collectible baseball cards for gay kids!