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On the 20th anniversary of Anna Wintour's ascension to editor-in-chief of Vogue, the Washington Post's fashion editor Robin Givhan extravagantly eulogizes the "master of the universe who wears her power as comfortably and impeccably as Chanel couture" and reveals that, in case you were going to question her authority, she knows of what she speaks:

I worked at Vogue briefly in 2000, a fact that always elicits the question: What was it like? I'm well aware that the questioner is breathlessly awaiting tales of free clothes, frantic assistants and hissy fits over cerulean blue belts. I hesitate to spoil the fantasy, but during my short stay I never witnessed any toddler-size temper tantrums. My colleagues did improve my standard of dress, although by example, not by mandate or largess.

We think she means that no one gave her any free clothes, which is surely the entire point of being a fashion journalist? Givhan also neutrally observes that Vogue's circulation, at 1.2 million, has remained the same over the bobbed one's two decades at the helm. Isn't that fact strangely at odds with her mighty stature? Not that we'd say so to Anna's face, of course!