Thursday, February 09, 2006
Anna Wintour, My Pre-Teen Pen Pal
I'm super groggy this morning after being at work until midnight working on Grammy stuff. And would you believe that out of all my co workers, I was the last one in at 10:30 AM? Everyone else seems a little sluggish as well, so I'm keeping my head low and my mouth shut. No need to irritate a bunch of sleepy writers.
Anyhow, in the spirit of Fashion Week (I couldn't drag myself to the tents today if even I was offered a pass to the Versace Couture show...) I've drudged up this story about writing letters to Anna Wintour.
I started reading Vogue when I was about 11 years old, mostly because it gave me something to do while my mom was shopping at the grocery store. She would shop, and I would set up camp by the magazine stand. Some kids were babysat by the TV, I was babysat by magazines. Whatever works.
During the summer of 1990 I had just turned 13 years old and was left home alone during the day while my mom went to work. (Um, shouldn't I have been at camp or something like that?) Being an ambitious child I amused myself mostly by reading and making collages and getting on my bike and doing my paper route.
One day I was reading the latest issue of Vogue when I came upon an article about the rap group Kid n' Play. (In Vogue, of all places.) House Party had just come out and not only had I loved the movie, but I became obsessed with the soundtrack. For about three months it was all I would listen to, apart from Public Enemy's Fear of a Black Planet and whatever the New Kids on the Block had just put out.
Anyway, Vogue did a really great piece about Kid n' Play. I was so smitten that I pulled out a piece of purple graph paper (don't ask where one finds such a thing) and wrote a letter to Ms. Wintour in purple, felt-tip marker. (Writing letters to magazine editors was also pretty standard, latch-key kid behavior for me.)
Basically I told Ms. Wintour that I loved her magazine and that I was particurally happy with her piece about Kid n' Play. As a side note I added that I really wanted to be a writer or a journalist when I grew up (heh) and so I would key reading her magazine.
I sent the letter off and continued being confused and 13. A few weeks later I went to the mailbox and found a huge enevelope (like, 6 pounds) from Vogue magazine.
My heart started to palpitate. I wondered what on earth the Fashion Goddesses could be sending me. Who knew mailing a letter could yield such riches? The best part was that I was home alone (my brothers were off working as caddies at the Wee Burn Country Club) and so I hopped onto my mom's enormous bed and opened up the package.
Inside was a copy of the September 1990 issue of Vogue, (The huge fashion issue. I still have it.) as well as a short, typed letter from Ms. Wintour. It thanked me for my letter and wished me the best of luck in my writing career. (Heh.) I so so thrilled that I took the letter and put it in a frame that was lying around the house and hung it on my bedroom wall.
I called my friend Kelly and told her
that Anna Winour (or at least one of her minions) had sent me not only a letter, but the latest issue of Vogue.
Kelly replied, "Who's Anna Wintour?"
And so my long history of being tragically misunderstood began.
Fast forward to 2002. I was 25 years old and finishing up my masters degree at the Columbia University School of Journalism. On Thursday nights the school would bring in editors to speak, and one day Ms. Wintour came by.
The room was packed and I was going to get a question in, come hell or high water. Before the talk I had actually gone back to Connecticut to see if I could find the letter Wintour had sent me in 1990, but it was nowhere to be found.
I sat through the talk and luckily got a hold of the microphone during the question and answer bit. I told Wintour that when I was 13 she had sent me a letter and a free copy of the magazine and wished me luck on my writing career. The whole room actually seem captivated by the story. Anyway, I thanked her for the letter, because when one is 13 and Anna Wintour sends them anything, it is quite cool.
Ms. Wintour was quite taken and was shocked that I would remember such a thing.
And then the strangest thing happened: Anna Wintour actually...smiled.
All this, thanks to a story about Kid n' Play in the July 1990 issue of Vogue.
My point? Even latch keys kids can make something of themselves, when left to their own devices.
