Innholdsfortegnelse for February 2017 i Vogue

Somehow our February issue has ended up with a common thread: courage. It wasn’t deliberate, yet when I read many of this month’s pro!les it became clear that that was what tied them all together—and I have no doubt that everyone here at Vogue is just like so many others in our country right now, who are seeking out and celebrating those who choose to see the world in progressive and inclusive ways, and who aren’t afraid to speak up and speak out for what they believe in. That’s certainly true of our cover girl, Dakota Johnson, whom I like more and more; one feels that not only is she set to grow in stature as an actress but that her willingness to be open about her career, her fame,…

This graphic Highlander staple makes a strong daywear showing. FOR FASHION NEWS AND FEATURES, GO TO VOGUE.COM…

My journey started last Christmas at Canyon Ranch in Tucson. A woman who sat at the Captain’s Table, where solo travelers ate, was so !t and glowing—even her hair was radiant—that it took me a few meals to deduce that she was in her late 50s. It emerged that this Cynthia Smith from Chicago was a nutritionist, and soon enough she was diagnosing each of her tablemates with potential food allergies. If we truly wanted to know what foods might be making us bloated or overweight, she added, we needed to get a DNA panel done. The latest twist in the genetictesting boom reveals what you— and only you—should eat to be your slimmest, healthiest self. Researchers have found that variations in a mere handful of the 20,000 genes we’ve…

The transformation of Broadway by millennial talent continues apace with the arrival of Significant Other, a tart, melancholy, romantic comedy by 33-year-old Joshua Harmon (Bad Jews), featuring an emotionally fluid, breakout performance by Gideon Glick. The play, which started at the Roundabout in 2015, tells the story of Jordan Berman (Glick), a smart, sensitive young gay man who watches his three best pals, all women, pair off and get married, leaving him in despair about ever finding love and in mourning for waning friendships. “I was really struck by how it captured exactly the way me and my friends spoke to each other,” the 28-year-old actor says. “It was like, I know these people. I am these people.” Over lunch, Glick—slim, boyishly handsome—tells me that although, unlike Jordan, he has…

The trouble with perfection is you start looking for cracks. They’re easily found in Big Little Lies, HBO’s darkly amusing seven-part series based on Liane Moriarty’s dishy best seller. Set in idyllic Monterey Bay, this mordant murder story is triggered by mothers fighting about their first-graders. Reese Witherspoon is Madeline, a busybody whose elegant best friend, Celeste (Nicole Kidman), is married to a younger man (Alexander Skarsgård, excellent). When the two befriend a newcomer, Jane (Shailene Woodley), a school incident puts them at odds with Renata, a high-powered exec so secretly crazy she’s played by Laura Dern. As these yoga-class moms spin out of control, David E. Kelley’s witty, schadenfreude-laced script reveals the anger bubbling up through the veneer: Woodley brings an unsettling undertow to Jane’s nice-girl nervousness, Kidman captures…

I got you balloons!” Dakota Johnson shouts above a din of barking dogs, her hands cupped around her mouth in the shape of a heart. As the iron gates of her mother’s Hollywood Hills house creep open, the auburn-haired actress is half-revealed on the stone steps beneath a dense tangle of helium-!lled Mylar. She is wearing black Gucci boots and highwater vintage boys’ Levi’s in the ideal normcore wash. “Is this an appropriate out!t for meeting your landscape architect?” she asks, pulling on a crimson mohair sweater by The Elder Statesman (its designer, Greg Chait, is a pal). “Do I look like an adult who can convincingly use words like night-blooming?” Of course she did not get me balloons. These are the detritus of the twentyseventh-birthday party that her mother,…

Having just returned to New York after seven days of back-to-back work travel, the hairstylist Nikki Nelms is reclining on a gold-accented white sofa in her Brooklyn apartment, catching up on an episode of Black Ink Crew Chicago. A star of the VH1 reality show is gesticulating wildly on the television, but her hair isn’t budging. “It’s too pretty. Plastic,” Nelms says, her asymmetrical curls drifting out of a silk navy head scarf that is fastened on the top of her head. “I would add breakage, !yaways, airiness,” she continues, detailing an approach to weaves and extensions predicated on instinct and a talent for making hair “junky,” which is how Nelms refers to the hard-won natural texture that has become her signature. On the co"ee table, a sheet of paper…

Table of contents 48: On Montero: Diane von Furstenberg scarf (on stick), $178; Diane von Furstenberg stores. Marni shoes, $1,090; select Marni boutiques. Cover look: Sleeveless dress ($3,500) and top ($1,350); Proenza Schouler, NYC. Editor’s letter 60: On Levy: Dress, $895; tibi.com. Up front 68: Top, price upon request; Derek Lam, NYC. Earrings, $2,200; davidyurman.com. Talking fashion 77: Earrings, $290. Shoes, $890; select Dior boutiques. 83: Ankle boot, price upon request. Beauty 92: Tank top, $750; Loewe, Miami. Dress, $490; similar styles at edun.com. Earrings, $239; anniecostellobrown.com. PATA 100: Suede jacket, $1,490; o!cinegenerale.com. Top, $235; us.sandro-paris.com. 102: Shirt, $2,890; select Gucci boutiques. Earrings, price upon request; walesbonner.net. 106: Hermès box, $780; select Hermès boutiques. THE RUNAWAYS 111: Dress (price upon request) and bag ($4,400). 112–113: Bag, $3,750. Shoes, $525; Tod’s…

We met in the middle of a blackout. It was searing hot and there wasn’t any running water and New York City had lost its mind. People were sweaty and edgy, thronging the streets, leaking heat and anxiety. Traffic lights dangled dead over the intersections; taxis lurched through the dark. The ATMs didn’t work and bodegas were charging insane amounts for bottled water and I was thirsty, hungover, and almost out of cash. I felt defenseless every time I walked up the ten flights to my apartment carrying a lit candle in the ghostly stairwell. I was nearing panic when a friend called and told me he had the water back on in his building down by City Hall, and a grill out on the balcony. As I walked there,…

The Spring BOOT As the world keeps whirling like a dervish in illogical directions, it feels like the time to step forward boldly. I’m talking footwear here, not global solutions, but the optimism of the spring collections struck an emboldening tone: Shocking pink! Vivid prints! Bold shoulders! Stripes! More stripes! And the footnote? The reimagined ankle boot. Louis Vuitton’s spacey python-and-leather boots come pointed and peaked mid-shin, while Loewe’s coquettish neo-Victorian booties draw the eye forward with a high-shine bow and a spacious “beak” (giving one’s legs, incidentally, the flattering appearance of cocktail stirrers). Rag & Bone’s cricket-stripe boots, meanwhile, have tomboyish élan, and Olivier Theyskens’s hook-and-eye booties bring a kind of offbeat romance to the everyday, with the new fit-and-flare shapes making for a sophisticated, all-season ally. “I am…

Is any author better on globalization and its discontents than Mohsin Hamid? His prescient latest, Exit West (Riverhead), is an all-toorealistic fable about a young couple: Nadia, who wears a burka and drives a motorcycle, and Saeed, the classmate who gently charms her. As their unnamed city dissolves into civil war, they flee through a series of “doors”—to a refugee camp in Mykonos, an oligarch’s London mansion, a shantytown in Marin County. Hamid conjures a brave new world of whirring drones and glowing screens, but there’s a tender lyricism in his vision, too, and the possibility of mutual understanding: “We are all,” he reminds us, “migrants through time.” With the help of a Greek chorus of ribald spirits, George Saunders’s ingenious first novel, Lincoln in the Bardo (Random House) reimagines…

HAVE YOU HEARD? THE SKY IS FALLING, and, quite apropos: Chicken is king. It may be the recent election season, evoking that promise that now seems so innocent and unlikely of a chicken in every pot. Or perhaps chicken is simply in tune with today’s modish minimalism? Something else? In any case, there are chickens, chickens everywhere and endless roasts to eat. For a cursory inventory of sightings in my hometown: There is a nearly famous roast chicken at Le Turtle on the Lower East Side; a genuinely famous tru!e-gilded one at the Nomad, in the Flatiron District; Mission Chinese’s boiled egg–stu"ed chicken; “Hell Chicken” at Achilles Heel in Brooklyn; and a fried-chicken stando" between Shake Shack and David Chang. Café Altro Paradiso’s pork Milanese is now a pollo one.…

From the malletier’s first Trianon-canvased steamer trunk in 1854 to today’s stowable carry-on, Louis Vuitton’s iconic luggage has made traveling across time zones a polished and luxurious affair. Now the savvy globe-trotter can reach across the world (or just work remotely) with a golden crocodile iPhone sheath. “The idea of playing with the scale of the historic trunk was interesting,” says artistic director Nicolas Ghesquière. “The object itself represents such a lifestyle statement.” It’s a blend of old and new that can lend a gilded patina to even the simplest tweet. □…

This makes me laugh. I mean, these pants are hilarious!” Glenn Martens is standing in his light-drenched Y/Project aerie o! the Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis, going over pictures of his spring show, pointing out an arrangement of underwear-skimpy shorts and suspendered chaps. Oh, see: The slivers of exposed upper thigh and the scissoring leg action form a Y-shape. “Y/Project is very eclectic,” Martens says, smiling, “but there’s always joyfulness in it.” The collection—which a roiling audience of young Parisian fans cheered on at Martens’s show last September—“was a men’s collection women would buy, with a club-culture background,” says the designer, who was appointed creative director of the label in 2013, after cofounder Yohan Serfaty died. Gradually, the 33-year-old Belgian’s own romantically weird, streetwise vibe has "ltered through. Evidence the brilliant hybrid…

Coming o$ co$ee felt rotten. It was a bit of an accident, and I blame an invitation to Sicily. (Yes, I detoxed from co$ee in Italy.) My program at the Verdura Resort was designed to exclude stimuli—which I apparently have enough of in my life—with ca$eine, sugar, and almost all salt o$ the menu. Trotting from one spa treatment to the next, from a lengthy thalassotherapy bath to a workout, I endured a piercing headache, tingling muscles, and a head like cotton wool. I barely recognized myself, and it took four days for my energy level to come back. At last I felt balanced, hydrated, less erratic. I was hooked on getting unhooked. But what would become of my social life? Afternoon co$ees with friends, work meetings, a post–dinner party…

The parade of citrus hues on the spring runways gave fashion’s collective message of optimism a fresh-squeezed twist. Head-totoe yellow served as a modern counterpoint to Victoriana at Dries Van Noten, while Victoria Beckham’s midriff-baring twopiece in tangerine velvet conjured a latter-day Carmen Miranda. But even with the sequined lemons cascading down a featherweight Altuzarra dress—Amalfi by way of America— the zestiest riffs on the season’s fruit-forward palette appeared, in a surprising turn, on the face. A sweep of jewellike mandarin or lime pigment, drawn just underneath the brow bone at Ferragamo and on the tops of cheeks at Max Mara, made a colorful case for swapping out predictable neutral shadows, while a pair of crisp citron cat eyes at Haider Ackermann offered a refreshing update on classic black flicks.…

Growing up in North Carolina, Kelsey Lu used to accompany her father, a sketch artist, to court. “He’d give me a Walkman with whatever he was listening to,” the 27-year-old remembers. “Usually jazz.” Lu would create fantasy narratives for the courtroom characters, a world of her own. If her spare, transporting songs are anything to judge by, she’s still at it. Her Facebook page lists her band members as “myself and my cello” (which she calls Danke). She uses it in synchrony with her voice, a soprano capable of roller coaster–worthy loops. Such elegiac and experimental music videos as “Dreams” are no doubt the attraction for fashion designers like Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, who invited Lu to his most recent show in Milan. At the moment, Lu is in L.A., working…

To pay attention to someone can be a political act,” Aliza Nisenbaum says quietly. For the last four years, the artist has been painting portraits of undocumented immigrants (mostly from Mexico and Central America) in New York City, giving recognition and dignity to individuals who are often obliged to live in the shadows. Her work, in which sensitively rendered figures appear in brightly patterned, semiabstract settings, caught the attention of Whitney Biennial curators Christopher Lew and Mia Locks, and will appear in the exhibition next month. “She’s clearly not painting people she finds on Facebook,” says Lew. “There’s a real back and forth that happens between painter and subject because they know each other so well.” Aliza, 39, grew up in Mexico City, the child of a Scandinavian-American mother and…