Vogue May 2017

WHILE MANY OF US AT Vogue were engrossed in seeing the fall 2017 collections this past February and March, our attentions were often diverted to the various women’s marches, rallies, and other expressions of activism that were happening at the same time, both here in America and in Europe. There was something incredibly inspiring and moving about seeing so many women from all walks of life come together to make their voices heard—a raw, physical, real-time expression of solidarity and protest on the streets instead of simply showing support via social media. For this issue, as part of our ongoing honoring of women for our 125th anniversary, the writer Mary Gordon contributes a very personal essay (“March with Me,” Nostalgia, page 92) on her involvement in demonstrating—both now and way…

I’m interested in the way ordinary lives go wrong— people who are driven unfairly to extremes, neighbors or family members whose lives suddenly take a dark turn,” says Paula Hawkins, reached by phone in Sedona, where she landed after her vacation, a calmbefore- the-promotional-storm tour of national parks in the American West with her attorney boyfriend, Simon Davis, was upended by monsoon-like rains that washed away entire roadways. Some detours, of course, are more welcome than others. The London-based author was a finance journalist writing romantic comedy under a pseudonym when she was thrown the curveball of dreams: Her debut thriller, The Girl on the Train, went stratospheric, selling eighteen million copies and becoming a film starring a wonderfully boozy Emily Blunt. Now Hawkins is at the forefront of a…

Tuesday, August 11 Jules WHY IS IT THAT I CAN RECALL so perfectly the things that happened to me when I was eight years old, and yet trying to remember whether or not I spoke to my colleagues about rescheduling a client assessment for next week is impossible? The things I want to remember I can’t, and the things I try so hard to forget just keep coming. I was in the car, driving, and the nearer I got to Beckford, the more undeniable it became, the past shooting out at me like sparrows from the hedgerow, startling and inescapable. All that lushness, that unbelievable green, the bright, acid yellow of the gorse on the hill, it burned into my brain and brought with it a newsreel of memories: Dad…

Los Angeles is famously unsentimental about the past (just ask Warren Beatty), yet the city does unabashedly love one old thing: Angels Flight, the steeply angled 298-foot funicular railway that Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling rode to romance in La La Land. Although the 116-year-old attraction has been closed for three years after some scary malfunctions, on a recent spring afternoon, its lower entrance is surrounded by reporters, TV cameramen, dignitaries, bemused tourists, and the odd hipster drifting across the street from G&B Coffee, $6 almond-macadamia latte in hand. They’ve come to hear a press conference announcing that, at long last, the renovated Angels Flight will reopen by Labor Day. At the center of the action is Mayor Eric Garcetti, a fit, square-jawed, gently graying 46-year-old who so thoroughly looks…

October 1967. My best friend and I decide to take a bus from Manhattan to the Pentagon march in Washington. We are freshmen at Barnard but still living at home in Queens, and we know we have to lie to our working-class parents, who would be appalled at the idea of an anti war demonstration. We say we have important group projects to work on; we will have to spend the weekend in the library and sleep on the floor of our friends’ dorm rooms. Fifty years later I am at the Women’s March in Washington; my daughter is marching in her hometown of Madison, Wisconsin. She texts me a picture of the poster she is carrying, on which she has drawn a vagina dentata. My eye falls on a…

THREE SEASONS AGO, at the point when discontent about the representation of women in fashion started rumbling in the background, Marques’Almeida took a look at how they were working, and stopped it. “It came to the point where we thought it wasn’t enough to design by mood boards—that was feeling kind of empty. So we decided: It’s the girls who bring the reality.” Marta Marques is explaining how she and her partner, Paulo Almeida, came to listen to their instincts and plug directly into the energy of the people they know. “Now we get the clothes together on a rail and wait for the girls to come in and choose,” says Almeida. “There’s no preplanning before the show.” The brilliantly accessible hot mess of multilayered, manycolored prints, tiny skirts, baggy…