Why we Love (and Fear) Anna Wintour and Terry Richardson

They say genius strikes the hungriest souls. The one’s in which the sacrifice of time and customs are no real wager in the path to greatness. Anna Wintour is no stranger to greatness and her stop at nothing genius has brought her to be known as the reverend mother of fashion’s avant-garde. The long reigning editor in chief of Vogue America, she has shaped women’s fashion as we know it. She validates our most intimate style lusts in monthly issues of seemingly endless seasonal must haves. Featured in this month’s “Wear It Now” are baby blue wedge heels with sailor style striped patterns going for a mere $915. A small pittance in the path to total fashionista enlightenment this summer. Oh Anna, how I love thee – though my wallet now must loath me.

Next to Anna in the high wheeling power-play world of New York fashion is the notorious Mr. Terry Richardson. Despite reminding us of some of the most vile truck stop horror stories, we can’t help but be thrilled by Terry’s road to fashion’s hall of fame. His portrayal of the waif in a world void of love and running wild with taboo sexuality is irresistible. High pitch color schemes thrown against white wash walls, his virginal looking subjects teeming with emotional conflict is a modern day portrayal of a Dionysian induction ceremony. Yum indeed, but I won’t be surprised when he starts showing up on my IPhone sex offender’s application. Whoopsie.

All things considered - Anna and Terry, we love you.


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