"Lovers Dining" Has a Cover That Beats Vogue's Latest Offerings

The Chloe Malle era at Vogue continues with a whimper. Inasmuch as it’s the Chloe Malle era at all, of course. I feel like she gets saddled with the public-facing stuff Anna Wintour doesn’t want to do, but has all her other decisions second-guessed in a very passive-aggressive Obi-Wan “You must do what you feel is right, of course” way. So it’s anyone’s guess who is really responsible for the September Issue cover this year, but Malle is the one who got the editorial director job and who was tasked with publicly insisting that Anna has indeed handed her the reins. The yield:

I will start with my nice comment: Both of them are smiling and happy, which is a rarity for a fashion Bible that loves to peddle beautiful misery. Homer Gere’s outfit, though, is absurd for both a fashion magazine and a pivotal seasonal issue thereof; he’s 26 and dressed like a prep-school kid who’s interviewing for an internship at his dad’s company that he knows he’s going to get but he has to pretend he’s trying anyway. Kaia Gerber appears to be decked out in a hideous Chanel mélange that’s way less interesting than any of what’s inside the mag. I’ve never been a fan of her as a model, because she veers very blank. So the other credit I give to this spread is that she delivered some personality in it, and/or seemed up to the task of selling its quirk.

Okay, that last one is goofy, but that’s not her fault. She’s a cross between The Flying Nun and a girl who’s playing dress-up in her parents’ closet and trying to make a wedding veil out of a collared shirt. This photo is also objectively deranged — she looks like a Fortnite skin, or an NPC lurking at a cabin and waiting to sell you a legendary grenade launcher — but I LOVE the shape and whimsy here, and the small detail that she is not en pointe but in fact half an inch off the ground. Modeling-wise, and in terms of conveying the spirit she seems to have as a person, this might be Kaia’s most successful shoot. Notably, Vogue did not take the opportunity to copy her mother Cindy Crawford’s 1992 cover pic with her then-husband, Homer’s dad Richard Gere. There might have been a fun mimicry approach available if they wanted to, but I suppose if you’re trying to aid and abet the argument that they’re “making their own way,” you don’t immediately echo the output of their famous parents.

On that tip, it’s poetic that Chloe Malle, a nepo baby herself, plonked two more on her first September Issue and then tried to make the argument ON THE COVER that they’re really just making their own way. If you are born to parents who have connections in the industry, you are never truly making your own way. That is one way it’s hard for Ye Olde Nepos: They need enough talent and work ethic to earn the right to shrug off the term itself, while also developing and displaying an awareness of their privilege and the wide range of advantages it affords them. Even if said advantages are unseen. Homer Gere might not have set out to be an actor, as he tells it, and sure, he might’ve just starred in some friends’ student films and then gotten the bug, but I do not believe for a second that an agent randomly called him based solely on those films. The name “Gere” absolutely factored into it, whether Homer saw that side or not. Kaia, to her credit, seems fairly aware of The Plight of the Nepo and how even she contributes to it from the other side:

“I’ve only ever been a nepo baby, and I’ve only ever benefited in my career from it,” Gerber says. “But I also find myself doing it to other nepo babies, thinking, like, Okay, show me why you deserve this job. I said to Homer—because the concept is daunting to him, having lived as an adult so far without that perception, whereas I sort of went through it when I wasn’t fully sentient—I said to him, ‘Homer, unfortunately with this show, it’s not like you’re just any unknown actor and people will judge you as an unknown actor. But what that’s done for me is make me want to work harder.’ ”

I came away from the interview feeling like Homer Gere is a nice kid who’s just rolling through an opportunity that most likely came to him specifically because of who he is. Kaia seems to talk about modeling as something she’s had to overcome, rather than the very thing that put her on anyone’s radar to begin with, but she’s clearly bright and a voracious reader, and I hope that pays off for her if acting is really what she wants to do. I tried watching The Shards and hated it so passionately that I bounced after one episode. It sounds like I will miss out on the texture of the “decadent 1980s drug-fueled high-school drama” portions of the show, because I could not make it past the violent serial-killings that mutilated female bodies in ways that I wish I had not seen and which will haunt me. That’s not Homer’s or Kaia’s fault. Maybe they’re excellent in it. I will never know.

But this cover, giddy bounce aside, is an empty offering. It should be a fun interior fashion spread, and not the front of what’s SUPPOSED to be the most influential indicator of what’s to come in that industry. It’s a juvenile offering for the High Priestess of Fashion Pubs, and an idea better left to incubate while their budding careers do.

Then again, it could have been worse. Check out the digital cover:

I guess 6 million hearts can’t be denied, but still: WHO CARES. “Cris” is Cristiano Ronaldo, favored son of Portugal thanks to his football legacy, but who seems like a giant asshat who I find it impossible to root for — and that was before he named Donald Trump as someone he “really likes.” The best thing he has contributed to the world is, perhaps against his will, lending his likeness to this HORRENDOUS bust of him that was erected at Madeira Airport in Portugal.1 One of Page Six’s only good contributions to the world is this description:

The bronze sculpture, which could most charitably be said to resemble Gary Busey on a lethal cocktail of steroids and Ecstasy, was graciously unveiled by the star. It’s also been said to look like Sloth from “The Goonies” and Kristaps Porzingis.

“Gio” is Georgina Rodriguez, who met Ronaldo while working at a Gucci store and has spent the last ten years coupled up with him, amassing an astonishing 78.2 million Instagram followers and three seasons of a Netflix documentary I Am Georgina. IMDb reviewers agree it is empty and ridiculous, “a bad dream about being rich and full of yes mans around you that are all fake, and then you wake up and say: yep this was a dream that i dont want to live,” and that you should go watch some paint dry if you’d like a deeper experience.

The story tongue-bathes how breathlessly the Internet traded rumors about their wedding and how epic it would be, an excitement that seems to have evaded any corners of the web I visit. It talks about how normal they are, just really regular, married in their living room with only their kids and no trace of Rihanna… as Georgina poses with both her 50-karat diamond engagement ring and a horde of other special guest stars from Chopard that might be even bigger. Chloe Malle is also the writer who handled the magazine’s slavish attempts to normalize Lauren Sanchez-Bezos, both during the engagement and of the wedding, and unfortunately she is going to have this notch on her belt as well:

“When I was a little girl,” [Georgina] reflects, “I dreamt of the biggest castle, the biggest carriage, the longest dress, a crown full of diamonds. And now I’m saying: no. I want something intimate, with my partner and our children, at home. Because castles, houses, islands, horses, cars: We have all of that within reach every day. But something intimate—that’s more unusual for us.” In the economy of fame, privacy is priceless.

That is… sad. I mean, not really; cry me a river that you have all the riches in the universe and can reach for any extravagance without batting an eye. But in this quote she is saying intimacy and connection is a rarity in her ten-year relationship, and in the same breath, she’s peddling the details of said prized intimacy to Vogue while promising a huge party later when they’re less busy. It certainly feels less like they wanted to treasure this small special day with just their kids, and more like this was the wedding that was gonna happen no matter what, so they built a PR framework around it. The goal of this cover is clearly to Beckham or Bezos these two — more specifically, Georgina, whoops, Gio— and at this point I would not be at all surprised if it’s in aid of them turning up as Met Gala co-chairs, or at least participants on that gigantic but probably meaningless celebrity committee. To me, Georgina’s fame, at least over here, is not remotely commensurate with the size of her following — the first I ever heard of her was when Guess had her doing modeling a few years ago, and I once again said, “Who is that? WHO CARES,” and scrolled past it as fast as I could. Maybe I’m an anomaly, but judging by the number of “WHO???” responses to our Instagram story about this, I suspect I am not. I wonder how much money changed hands to make Vogue push this hard.

Also, what the hell is this? As a side note, I really do not care for the concept of proclaiming people “couple goals,” but particularly these two, and PARTICULARLY when they’re just sort of working out in their weird glass-walled gym. Nothing about this speaks to the kind of couple I want to be in, except I guess the fact that they probably don’t have a mortgage payment.

British Vogue didn’t fare much better this month:

Every time I see this photo, my brain wants to believe she is holding all those hats up on a stick, when really it’s the rack behind her. This is a very odd cover, like she just burst into someone’s home but can’t actually cross into the room without being invited. A vampire in 1980s Benetton (it isn’t actually Benetton, but it should be). The mandate for the entire shoot seemed to be, “Please do not allow the camera within ten feet of Nicole.”

Who even is that, and why is she hiding behind a chair?

Who even is that, and why is she pretending to be part of the mural?

Who even is that, and does she think she’s talking to somebody at the other end of the couch?

These just made me laugh:

They are the spiritual sequels to Madonna’s crackpot Interview photoshoot. That one on the left looks like Sienna Miller throwing a tantrum. In the middle is her Rivals era, and on the right, well, photographers love a woman being cranky around an old car for some reason. But for a piece that claims to be an intimate peek into Nicole’s post-divorce soul, this entire visual exercise is all about keeping us as far away as possible.

— Heather

Gather ‘round, Broads, as the day has finally come for me to dig into the vintage cookbook for which you all most vigorously agitated: Lovers Dining, the 1970 pamphlet — it’s a slim 47 pages — by Irena Chalmers, with illustrations by Bob Penny. Our publisher here is Potpourri Press, and don’t worry: They assure you that all their publications are shipped in a plain brown wrapper, although hiding this amazing cover from the world is a crime.

Despite that salacious promise, Lovers Dining is tragically rather dull. The few illustrations are (as you’ll see) extremely charming but as cookbooks go, there are both sexier and more deranged recipes in Martha Stewart’s Entertaining. (In fairness, Martha herself is both very sexy and very deranged.) The most amusing detail, really — beyond how often this book suggests you pour a chablis — is that every single salad is served with French dressing, whether that’s specified here or not:

Every single one of those menus does include a “tossed salad” — yes, I hear you snickering — even if it’s not listed in the table of contents. I assume French dressing was considered the height of sexiness in 1970 but surely occasionally you could turn to a vinaigrette or even a nice blue cheese. It’s not like all these recipes are very light, in preparation for later, vigorous 70s-style love-making! Menu 9 has you filling up on onion soup and fried chicken! The very first menu has you eating veal chased with fettuccine alfredo. Neither are recipes you serve on a hot date, unless your idea of a hot date includes muttering, “Wow, I’m so full.”

Admittedly, this is adorable. Notably, this is the only menu which suggests “expresso” (sic) — perhaps everyone tired of trying to spell it correctly, as later menus all just conclude with plain old coffee, or “coffee and liqueurs.” (I will note that liqueurs, at least, do seem sexy.)

This is the funniest one recipe in the entire compilation:

What if all the oranges at my market are only moderately attractive?

Even the pamphlet’s manifesto is vague — although I want the header art here blown up and framed, it is SO CUTE:

“This little book has been written for the gastronomic delight of friends and lovers of all ages.” No! No, this is not what we want when we buy a book called Lovers Dining, with that very saucy, Joy of Sex-y cover!2 Friends? Lovers of all ages? I think not! We also don’t want further nattering about leftovers. This book is called LOVERS DINING. We are here for SEDUCTION.

Look at these two people, with their long legs and their wide-legged trousers. Are they thinking about cleaning out their fridge? Martha would never do this.

Obviously, I turned to Wikipedia to learn more about author Irena Chalmers, pictured here with a very 1970 necklace and a plate of something VERY non-sexy-looking that does not seem to line up with any of the meals in this book.

It turns out that Irena was an EXTREMELY accomplished person, with a background in NEUROBIOLOGY, who probably whipped this out (no pun intended) in like twenty minutes, which — let’s be honest — kinda makes me appreciate it more. Her first book, naturally, was about fondue, written originally to help sell some excess fondue pots at her cooking school/specialty shop. (The cover of that book, seen there in her New York Times obituary, is also delightful.)

Per her Wiki:

Chalmers also wrote other specialty cookbooks for specific cooking appliances, including the first microwave oven cookbook for Litton, the first ice cream cookbook for Donvier ice cream machines and several cookbooks commissioned by Le Creuset. The most successful of these small books was Napkin Folds for the Lillian Vernon catalog, responsible for sales of more than one million copies. Estimated total sales of the small cookbooks exceeded seven million copies worldwide.

Just the phrase “Napkin Folds for the Lillian Vernon catalog” fills me with delight. There is much less on the internet about the book’s illustrator, B. Penny, although he clearly did a lot of work with Irena, all of which is very 1970s and extremely pleasant to the eye. Who knows what’s happening on the inside of any of those other cookbooks. I imagine they are similarly workmanlike, although it does, thankfully, appear that Salads Well Dressed branches out from French dressing at some point. I suppose, if anything, this little jaunt has taught that the old sawhorse about not judging a book by its cover is well taken.

— Jessica

We are recapping the new season of Ted Lasso, and the first chunk of coverage came out yesterday!

— More Heated Rivalry casting news, and one surprise: Emily Hampshire, noted for Schitt’s Creek, will be playing Vanessa. Who, you ask? Exactly. She’s one of Fabian’s friends from Tough Guy, and she is approximately 20 years older than I expected said friend(s) to be. Then I googled it, and I guess Fabian is supposed to be somewhere in the 31-33 region? I thought all those crazy kids were 25; what do I know. Fabian’s other pal Tarek will be played by Priyanka, so this suggests a LOT of Fabian, to my disappointment. (I hope in Jacob’s hands, and those of whomever they choose, this character is less irritating!) We also have Edvin Ryding of Young Royals as the Swiss rookie Luca Haas, making me wonder if elements of HIS abandoned book will make their way in here; Robert Naylor from Mile End Kicks, which Kevin JUST watched the other day, as Wyatt Hayes; and Sabrina Jalees — also in Mile End Kicks, actually — as Shane’s and Ilya’s agent Farah. Presumably we’re right around the corner from knowing about Ryan and Fabian, as well as whether we’re bothering with Eric and Kyle from Common Goal. I’m trying not to be concerned at this thing swelling too far beyond Shane and Ilya, which worked SO well in its bubble in season 1. — H

— Hayden Panettiere’s sudden death is just awful. I remember her from Guiding Light, from Remember the Titans, from Heroes, from Nashville. She had incredible talent — knowing all she was going through, and what little support she had to deal with any of it, the performances she gave were astonishing, particularly in Nashville. She was only 36, and I really, really wanted her to be in position to enjoy a second act, but those who read her memoir often commented that she still seemed to be in the thick of it rather than anything approaching “out the other side,” and they may have been right. It’s tragic for her daughter, and I’m sure agonizing for the people who worked with her and watched a lot of her life unwind. Also a gut-punch: BOTH the teen leads from Ice Princess are gone, far before their time. I hope Hayden and Michelle Trachtenberg met up on the other side and did a double toe loop for old times’ sake. — H

— Mini-rant: Due to watching a lot of Dodger Baseball on Spectrum’s channel, I am getting a lot of ads for their internet service, chief among them one from the self-proclaimed “flavor temptress” who runs Clementine’s Ice Cream. She is a cool-looking lady with silver hair and red lipstick, who says her company uses technology in ways people wouldn’t expect… such as regulating temperature, tracking orders, and running a rewards program. That is EXACTLY WHAT I EXPECT YOU TO USE TECH FOR. Get back to me when you’re using it to sculpt a Nativity Scene out of specialty flavors, or something, sheesh. — H

— A palate cleanser: This house is wonderful. If only I were a multi-millionaire in Maine with nothing but time to restore it! — J