Double Vision: Passion, Fashion, and The September Issue
“September is the January in fashion.” Candy Pratts Price, Executive Fashion Director, Vogue Magazine.
R. J. Cutler’s 2009 documentary, The September Issue, a look at the arduous process of compiling Vogue magazine’s biggest edition of the year, was initially promoted as a profile of its Editor In Chief, Anna Wintour (left), but ended up shedding more light on Creative Director, Grace Coddington, resulting in her becoming the film’s most fascinating star.
Coddington’s free-spirited, yet focused passion versus Wintour’s structured, and equally focused, determination made for a compelling dichotomy. Even their hairstyles and overall fashion sense speak volumes: Wintour dons her signature bob, classic and conservative, a strand rarely out of place, while Coddington (below) rocks thick, flowing, rock-star-style red hair. Ironically, Wintour, often stern, tends to exude personality through attire that embraces prints and color, while Coddington, like the cool bohemian aunt in your family, is frequently draped in black, almost choosing to pull focus from what’s on her person to what’s on her pages.
Coddington fights to get her work into the magazine, but it repeatedly gets put to the side, as Wintour edits, then ultimately decides what fashion spreads will make it into the issue. As Coddington senses her spreads are on the chopping block, she can’t hide the defeat on her face, as she sits at her desk. She updates the documentary crew about her spreads’ seemingly limited lifespan: “They took two more out and there’s question marks on two more, so it’s been whittled down… and I’m furious,” she calmly discloses. After a somber pause, she reveals with a brief nervous chuckle: “And it’s very hard to go on to the next thing.”
Later, a trip to Paris reignites the inner fire that looked to be extinguished. In a film full of flash and fashion, and pretty pictures, it’s this section that shows the inner beauty, particularly as Coddington overlooks the gardens at Versailles, an inspiring perspective emerges: “You have to go charging ahead, you can’t stay behind.”
And isn’t that what fashion, and life, is all about. The September Issue is a glimpse into the glamour, but more so it’s in-depth insight into the relentless passion it takes to create, and the frustration that can happen along the (run)way.
The September Issue cinematographer: Robert Richman.
From Fosse to Ari: The Origin of Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” Video
As long as there have been artists, it’s pretty safe to say there have been critics. The relationship between the two is a complicated one, for it’s the artist who, in an act of vulnerability, steps into the arena (often literally) to present the creation, and with that, comes the (welcome or unwelcome, hopefully at least constructive) critique from the sideline.
An artist who recently commented about this relationship is Ariana Grande, via her latest music video for “yes, and?” from her seventh studio album, Eternal Sunshine, which saw the light of day on March 8. The track’s sound evokes classic piano and hi-hat ‘90s dance music, while the video treatment harkens back to a stylish ‘80s music video and even further back to an iconic ‘70s movie musical, so therefore, Ari’s video is an homage to an homage. Let’s put on our dancing shoes and retrace our steps:
One of the best depictions of this artist-critic exchange was featured in Bob Fosse’s 1979 semi-autobiographical musical-drama, All That Jazz. Broadway director and choreographer, Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider essentially portraying Bob Fosse) is burning the candle (and many cigarettes) at both ends, trying to cast and create a new show, plus complete the editing of a film, all while barely co-raising his young daughter, and popping a lot of pills.
The new show that Gideon is working on entitled, NY/LA, a loose reference to Fosse’s very own, Chicago, features a musical number about airline travel called “Take Off With Us” (a cheeky title already filled with foreshadowing). Gideon invites a few suit-wearing financial backers to preview the song and dance, which starts out with the character of a purser (Sandahl Bergman), along with her crew of dancing flight attendants, touting the exceptional service they will bestow up their passengers (“They only live to service you...”). The first half of the performance is bubbly, which garners smiles, even a round of applause midway through from the straight-laced observers, but unbeknownst to them, there’s a second half that suddenly turns steamy (literally), with one of the dancers welcoming all aboard “Airotica,” Gideon’s ode to the “Mile-High Club.”
The studio goes dim, now lit only via a few flashlights, with the dancers peeling off their clothes (the “take off with us” double entendre now realized), and pairing up to perform a sensual, then overtly sexual, albeit artistic, number, much to the confusion and disappointment of the backers, the realization sinking in about the limited monetary and sponsorship potential that the addition of “Airotica” will bring. “There goes the family audience,” the head backer whispers to his colleague. At the end, Gideon asks what they think, only for the head backer to feign acceptance and approval with a nervous smile.
Ten years later, the dancer and choreographer, Paula Abdul used Fosse’s “Take Off With Us” as the basis for her “Cold Hearted” music video, directed by a then relatively unknown, David Fincher. The video starts out with a group of record-company executives arriving at a rehearsal space, seemingly uninterested in what they’re there to preview. One says it’s a “Bob Fosse kind of thing; it’s gonna be really, really hot,” to which another executive nervously replies, “Yeah, but tastefully, it’s tastefully hot.”
The first two verses and choruses find Abdul and her crew dancing much to the toe-tapping approval of the executives, but by the bridge, a couple of the dancers begin lowering the window shades, thus beginning Abdul’s (understandably much tamer) version of “Airotica.”
A couple of the executives are turned off, a couple of them turned on. Similar to Gideon asking his backers, Abdul asks her audience, “Well, what do you think?,” to which a conservative executive reluctantly replies, “It’s very nice.”
In January 2024, Grande released “yes, and?” as a self-empowerment reminder amid a social-media culture of click-and-critique. The video came at a time when Grande, once again, became the subject of chatter surrounding her personal life, specifically her short-lived marriage, and quick subsequent kindling of a new relationship with a co-star from the film adaptation of Wicked. For the Christian Breslauer-directed video for “yes, and?,” which starts similarly to Abdul’s, a group of jaded critics reluctantly arrive at an industrial space, yet ironically can’t seem to talk about anything but Grande and her signature ponytail, with some of the critics even rehashing, and reacting to, internet-sourced gossip.
As these critics enter the space, an elated group exits. The new batch take their seats in front of a series of stone statues, one of which is in the form of Grande with her hands covering her eyes in a see-no-evil posture. As the song’s beat drops in, the statues crumble into piles of rubble. Grande is released to tell her story, with the bridge reserved for commentary to those who deliver just that about her (“Don’t comment on my body/do not reply/your business is yours/and mine is mine”).
Through confident lyrics and cohesive choreography, Grande and her dancers persuade the critics to drop their metaphorical stone exteriors as well. Yet just as this is achieved, she and her dancers within a flash assume their statuesque personas once again, perhaps symbolic of the thick shell needed to navigate the current, all-too-easy, drop-a-comment culture. As the newly elated converts leave, yet another cluster of critics enter, they too soon to be shook.
In summary, the common threads between the three depictions are as follows:
The critics arrive.
Principal female character with a group of dancers.
Principal character dressed in black, and wearing a black hat with brim.
Stripped-down, industrial-looking rehearsal space featuring scaffolding structures.
Principal character on top of the scaffolding structure.
The controlled critics sitting on chairs as the audience, as opposed to the creative artists “in the arena.”
There’s always a moment when the critics are enjoying what is presented to them.
The rehearsal space goes from light to dark for a version of “Airotica.”
When it comes to Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” video, there’s no place like homage.
Photos 1, 8, 9, 10: Ariana Grande in the music video for “yes, and?,” directed by Christian Breslauer; Photos 2, 3, 4: All That Jazz, directed by Bob Fosse, cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno; Photos 5, 6, 7: Paula Abdul in the music video for “Cold Hearted,” directed by David Fincher.
Kubrick in Color
This montage highlights some of the director, Stanley Kubrick’s boldest, most iconic movie shots, color by color. Needless to say, it’s an absolutely brilliant look at his distinctive style and his fearless use of hue as visual cue, for example, to convey emotional tone or plot foreshadowing.