Can We Please Get Some Carine Roitfeld Up in 4 Times Square?
We'll go ahead and say it: We're absolutely in love with French Vogue editor Carine Roitfeld. And not in the strangely fascinated way in which we proclaim ironic "love" for her American Vogue counterpart, Anna Wintour. No, what we feel for Roitfeld is pure, unjaded, dewdrop-sincere love.
Why the unbridled affection? Maybe it's our usual Monday vulnerability, but our feelings are no doubt shaped by Roitfeld's frank words on the fashion industry:
• "They have to sell bags, bags, bags, bags, bags, bags. I hate handbags."
[Translation: I don't give a shit about about Marc Jacobs' quilted Stella bag.]
• "Maybe if you write it, they send me some [pants]. You never know. My size is small."
[Translation: I'm adorably shameless.]
• "Botox? No. I don't like Botox. It makes a very strange forehead."
[Translation: I fear Nicole Kidman.]
• "Every day you have to think you are a soldier. It's true. Always have to fight. I'm fighting to keep a level to the magazine."
[Translation: Reese Witherspoon does not belong on my cover.]
• On why she doesn't wear fur: "Because it has a smell."
[Translation: It's not about PETA.]
• On being shy: "I keep my hair down as my protection. With a drink it is better. I am very fun after one glass of vodka. I am more beautiful, too."
[Translation: I'm just a normal drunk!]
• And, on Anna Wintour: "She taught me a lot. Maybe she think I go up too much, I don't know I want good relations with her. But "
[Translation: I'm just as afraid of her as you are.]
