To the opening of Vogue 100 last night at the National Portrait Gallery, a photographic exhibition to celebrate a century of British Vogue. The brighter ones among you will note that this means Vogue launched here in 1916, when WWI stopped the import of the American edition across the Atlantic (Tatler’s been published for 307 years – since 1709 – but who’s counting?).
Anyway, you must go because there are around 280 photographs all curated by the brilliant and forensic Robin Muir, former picture ed of Vogue, who has spent five years putting the show together. Read the story he wrote about it all in a recent Vogue HERE.
Clearly, it was a big night. Loadsa celebs. Edie, Suki, Jourdan, Yasmin, Jerry Hall looking all glowy. Etc etc. I got talking to Joy Lo Dico from the Evening Standard at the beginning. ‘Kate might be coming,’ she told me.
‘Really?’ I pondered out loud. ‘Is this her kind of thing?’ And then I proceeded to tell various people I spoke to at the party that Kate Middleton might be coming.
I told the charming shoe man Rupert Sanderson. I told Simon Le Bon, who looked fractionally less excited than me about this. I told the Sunday Times editor Martin Ivens, breathlessly, as if I had a big scoop.
It was only when Suzy Menkes, queen of all fashion writing, said that Kate Moss hadn’t appeared that I twigged. I’d assumed the wrong Kate. What a thundering pillock. All of which explains why I should stick to Tatler fancy dress parties instead of Vogue ones.
I did like this picture of dumpy old Hitchcock though.
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