16 March 2007
Creative Director Grace Coddington is my heroine at Vogue magazine. To me, she seems like the Glenda the Good Witch, the isle of common sense and humor, in the Oz that is the industry.
I imagine she works hard, loves what she does and--no doubt--enjoys the perks of her world. But I think of her as the thinking woman's editor. In photos I've seen she's not a label victim. The Cod looks ready to get down to business and as if she brooks no foolishness.
I see her cloud of red hair in my mind's eye as she relaxes at home. She sits knitting as she reads a beautifully photographed book about 20th-century Finnish textiles and clothing. The cat drowsing on her feet is undisturbed as she rises to show her partner coiffure master Didier Malige a particularly stunning example. They have a light lunch, then motor over to an event sponsored by the Costume and Textile Collection at a nearby historical society. Afterward--it's a summer weekend--more reading and a walk before bed. The Cod's outfits are comfortable, yet unusual.
Erm, ok, I'm pretty much assuming The Cod is the way I want to be at the full height of my power and maturity. But I wouldn't be surprised if some of it were true.