So if you're skimming through Media Monday in the Times, you'll note an adorable article sandwiched in-between two full-pages ads taken out by Conde Nast to celebrate a couple of rewards awards the company's titles recently received from AdWeek. The article notes that Vanity Fair head Graydon Carter recently penned an introduction to Good magazine's "51 best magazines ever" list.
Speaking of recent roastee Graydon Carter, did he use his awesome clout to prevent a tell-all biography from being written about him? Radar reports that a "British book publisher has postponed an unauthorized biography of the Vanity Fair editor in chief after two researchers working on the book mysteriously quit." The researchers—"'young and ambitious' women, one of whom had earlier worked at VF"—didn't give a reason for their decision, but the publisher sees the dark arts of the man with the clown-like hair. We're of the opinion that any volume about the life of a blustery, volatile figure who has become the worst kind of parody of the people he used to pillory requires the skill and understanding of a Saul Bellow, not a jam job by a couple of editorial assistants looking to make a quick buck, but leave that aside: Any guesses as to the former Vanity Fair employee? And what possible threats—apart from withholding Waverly reservations—could Graydon have made? We look forward to your speculation.
Far be it from us to deign to offer fashion critiques. We work in our footie pjs and don't understand sneaker trends, remember? But all that aside, we do think it's odd that fellow Conde Nastie, Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter, finds his wife on Vogue's first post-Oscars 10 Best Dressed list. We guess her dress is nice and all! It's very... black! And also white! Well, Kirsten Dunst is on this list too, so maybe there is just no rhyme or reason to the thing.
"I'm just saying, it seems like a lot of money for mac-and-cheese."
Wow, the plight of Africa must really be important: Graydon Carter, who rarely produces theme issues or hobnobs with celebrities, has turned over editing duties for the July issue of Vanity Fair (although, let's be honest, it's not like he does a ton of editing in the first place) to Bono, an Irish musician who is on something of a mission to reduce poverty on that continent. David Carr profiles the odd couple in today's Times, and there are shocks a-plenty.
"I don't think anyone over 22 has that ambition," Kurt Andersen said last night, when asked if he had been trying to write the Great American Novel. One might be forgiven for thinking he had set out to do so; his new historical novel, Heyday, is 640 pages long! And it's full of Great American Novel-isms: a transcontinental journey, a group of young people (including a virtuous prostitute), the mid-19th century, gold mining, California, New York... yes, it's all there. Last evening dozens of Andersen's close friends and associates came out to Graydon Carter's appropriately 19th-century Waverly Inn to f te him and his book.
Despite its residency in 4 Times Square, the New Yorker has long held its corporate parent at arm's length; you'd be hard-pressed to find a mention of Conde Nast anywhere within the magazine's august pages. Take this week's review of the Waverly Inn: "Apocrypha abound, as ever—though lately, since the editor in chief of Vanity Fair, Graydon Carter, and several partners took over, they're of a less hoary variety." It's a classic New Yorker move—mention just enough information to seem like they're giving you context, but withhold just enough information so that only those in the know may enjoy. Like the Waverly Inn's patrons, we suppose. So perhaps in some way it's all come full circle.
The Old Town Bar, one of New York's greatest institutions, and the spot that the opening credits of David Letterman used to zoom through, has declared war on Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter and his restaurant, the Waverly Inn. A wonderfully insane sign appeared in their window last week, encouraging "the left wing editor" to move "back to Canada" and take his "half-assed celebrities with him." Documentation by a camera-toting-spy after the jump.
Graydon Carter loves to talk about the rage that stoked his and Kurt Anderson's satire-fires, back in the heady halcyon Funny Years. But he's since mellowed, he claims. Well, or something.
Today's DI/DO shows the two diametrically-opposed facets of food critic Frank Bruni's personality: He's both the avenging angel of the high-end nibbles set, and the whimsical stylist with tongue in a cheek full of truffles. In Batman mode, Bruni decries the trend toward dictatorial dining experiences, where the cruel culinary overlords charge you a ridiculous (and often unspecified) amount of money to choke down tiny portions of whatever's on offer, whether you like it or not. Batman blames the huge publishing deals, the TV programs, the diners themselves ("It's largely our doing. Chefs and restaurants wouldn't behave the way they do if we penalized them for it, instead of readily demonstrating our fealty."), and finally dons the hairshirt and takes his own share of responsibility:
Admittedly, things have been a little bit Spy-heavy around here lately. Spy this, Spy that. Spy invented laughter. Spy invented magazines. Spy invented puppies. Spy raped me. We get it. We're totally down. We love laughing, and puppies, and rape. If Spy was Arrested Development, we would totally be sad that it got cancelled, and we would totally buy the DVD box sets (and we are, and we did!) Which is basically what Spy: The Funny Years is — a book collecting some of the finer moments of the magazine's historical satire, all in one hardcover volume so that people come to your apartment and are like "What's Spy?" and you're like "It was this irreverent magazine published in the mid-80s to early 90s that gained a cult following and has left a lasting imprint on the nature of modern comedy and satire," and they're all like "Wow, you know a lot about ways to bore the shit out of me."
Yesterday, Eater continued to flood the zone with multiple perspectives on the West Village's Waverly Inn, formerly Ye Waverly Inn, which features heavy involvement from Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter. But you have to really love the above capper — documentary evidence of a 4 percent "didn't like" discount on the tab. We plan on asking for this discount from now on, for the slightest infraction. It's the established Graydon standard of service.
Speaking of Inns, the kids over at Eater got a look at the newly renovated Waverly Inn, Vanity Fair supremo Graydon Carter's first foray into the restaurant business. There's about a thousand pictures over at that site, and the place looks like a nice, comfortable establishment in which to spend a chilly winter evening. Of particular note is the bar's magazine rack, pictured above. Quick quiz: Which one of these things is not like the other?
So this Sunday Liz Smith broke the news that former Lowdown columnist Lloyd Grove, "has landed on his feet with Graydon Carter and Vanity Fair." We got in touch with Lloyd, whose bio at the News made mention of the fact that, "Aside from newspapers, he also has written extensively for Vanity Fair and Harper's Bazaar magazines," and he issued a demure response: "I love Liz Smith. Actually, I'm doing a little piece for VF while I decide among various interesting options for my next gig."
Above, enjoy one of the more staid events on the Spy revival/anniversary tour — more later this week! — courtesy of videographer Richard Blakeley and Intern Mary. A crowd of 30-something hipsters too young for Bob Dylan but too old for MTV crowded into the New York Public Library (NYPL, or "nipple") to hear former Spy magazine editors chat about everything from Hillary Clinton in bondage gear to the publishing business to pregnant Bruce Willis. "He didn't pose for that," Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter said when the Willis cover was projected. "That was me." Overall, the night was pretty tame, aside from Carter's out-of-control-classical-music-composer hair and the sexual tension between New York Times media columnist David Carr and everyone on stage, from the "powerful" Carter to the "mysterious" Kurt Andersen. George Kalogerakis somehow lurked in the background, as ever, despite being physically present in the foreground.
