I've never purchased a copy of, much less subscribed to, Vogue. I never embraced Men's Vogue, though its short shelf life would seem to indicate I wasn't the only one with reservations. None of this kept me from settling in to watch the 2009 documentary film, The September Issue, which chronicles Anna Wintour and her legion's quest to produce the thickest issue in Vogue history.
While most regular Vogue readers will be smitten (and frankly, it's difficult not to be) with the couture, the romanticized locations, and the gratuitous dose of pomp and circumstance that seems to surround Wintour's every sunglass-wearing move, I was soundly floored by the business of Condé Nast's fashionable centerpiece.
While MTV would have every teen girl believe a fanciful career in publishing awaits them at the editorial roundtables of Elle, Teen Vogue, et al, The September Issue does well to document that reality is much different. And even more ridiculous.
As print magazines struggle, the Vogue team triumphs on in the openly ludicrous world of fashion. Filmed during the making of the record-shattering September 2007 issue, the cameras follow Wintour and her cadre on international jaunts to Paris and Rome, long hours, a tragically uncool Starbucks addiction, clever story boards, creative infighting, the scrapping of photo shoots that cost more than $50,000 and the ever-looming deadline. Having worked in the print industry, it made me nostalgic.
The days of long editorial staff debates over what carefully cultivated copy would never see the light of day, meetings with creative directors to coordinate photo shoots for covers and fight over images, being tightly wound as deadline approached, breathing a sigh of relief when the issue went to bed: that's print nostalgia – not full reality.
Vogue is an anomaly. Most print publications don't have multimillion dollar monthly budgets to develop their books. There's no doubting that Grace Coddington is among the world's most truly gifted creative visionaries ever to share her talents with the print world, but part of me would like to see how creative she'd be with a budget of $100 and little to no equipment. That's when a creative director really shows his or her colors. I'd like to see what Wintour would do with a staff of four, and what publisher Tom Florio would do without a reliable sales army, among other things.
Giving credit where it is most certainly due, the Vogue team banged out an 840-page September '07 issue (of which 727 pages were advertising; 87 percent of the magazine, if you're doing the math). Two years later, ad pages were down to approximately 425.
Recently, news broke that Florio would leave Vogue at the end of June. With Condé Nast in various capacities since the 80s, Florio doesn't know yet what he'll do next, just that he wants to do his own thing. "I've been here a long time and I really love the place … But if I don't do this now, then when?", Florio was quoted as saying by the Wall Street Journal. So even the top man at a top performer like Vogue can still feel the pull of the open road, so to speak.
No doubt, Florio will have ample capital at his next venture, though probably not the vast resources, power and influence he both felt and wielded at Vogue. Clearly, these things aren't as important to him as pulling his own strings. Perhaps that's the appeal of the entrepreneurial venture. I've felt it myself.
