Bookshelf: Anna, The Biography
Not to be all fahshun girlie, I have loved all things catwalk since my early years.
From a ripe age I had a subscription to ELLE magazine and collected special issues of Vogue.
On Saturday nights my sister and I would parade up and down the living room pretending to be at fashion week. A small disclaimer: my sister is 5.5 (let’s say a round 6) years younger than me - so these installments of ANTM (America’s Next Top Model, for the uninitiated) were definitely my idea.
From an early age of flicking through the glorious, glossy pages of my beloved monthly editorials, I knew that there was one juggernaut, the ultimate powerhouse behind the industry. And, those huge sunglasses.
The one and only, Anna Wintour.
When Amy Odell first announced this book, I was hooked at the prospect of getting a real view into the Prada wearing devils life.
Note: Amy Odell writes a must read susbtack for the fash pack: https://amyodell.substack.com/
As expected, the tales are both wonderful and horrifying, with a gigantic range of sources from close friends to old assistants. The iconic Grace Coddington, and, the late, Andre Leon Talley included in that list.
Importantly, whilst Wintour doesn’t associate herself with the biography in any way - a proof was sent to her office, and an assistant followed up by sending Odell a few notes. Making ‘Anna’ unofficially, official.
‘Anna’ was one of my holiday books of choice last year, and I personally loved devouring it whilst wistfully dreaming of running around Manhattan in my (imaginary) Monolos; but I can safely say that this book has a niche audience.
Anyone who doesn’t appreciate the power and influence which comes with being (global) editor-in-chief of Vogue, AND, Global Chief Content Officer of parent publisher Condé Nast will be completely aghast at many of the stories.
As much as this book seeps with haute couture, it is also filled with enough pretension for a lifetime. Even I, a steadfast loyalist, find the need for a daily 5am trim and blow dry, a smidge too much.
If you know the significance of the first Monday in May, this is one for you. Otherwise, stick The Devil Wears Prada on and enjoy a bit of Stanley Tucci.
