Word on the 'street' (yeah, Sloane St maybe) that Anna Wintour after receiving her OBE, is stepping down from her chief editorial position at American Vogue, stirring up considerable excitement from amongst the bigwigs of fashion houses, to budding CSM/LCF grads and shamelessly self-promotional Hoxton trannies alike (*cough* Lismore).
Further rumours that Carine Roitfeld, Parisian editor is to fill her place seem an implausible joke but who really would be able to replace the scariest lady in fashion?
Known as the most important figure in the last two decades of fashion, her reputation as an intimidating bitch seems to have helped secure such international high regard.
In the same veins, it seems everyone at or near the top is pissed.
To quote 10 Magazine, "We write about fashion darling, we hate EVERYTHING."
Where questions of attending the opening shows of European Cruise collections are based around disgust like, "This ain't new season. This ain't Milan. What the FUCK am I doing here."
It seems anger and genuine incredulity at front row outfits make more sense than blind approval by feigned clapping from the latest fuckwit '/'er.
One frown from Wintour will send the rest of your 'career' down the LFW tent toilets Mr quirky sustainable so-and-so who thinks he's the new JCDC. Nobody WANTS your shitty mermaid tail cartoon tee-dress, FO Dr Noki.
Along with her perma-bob and constant sunglasses at night that would put Tiga to shame, Wintour's groomed yet somewhat dismal clothes suit a London/New York lady in her 50's. She may be ripped on for being a cunt, i.e The Devil Wears Prada FFS, but at least nobody can call her a wastegash in such tasteful Chanel skirt suits.
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