City of the Small Shoulders, canapé maker for the world, Vogue magazine, which under the ardent Hillary booster (and would-be ambassador to the Court of St. James) Anna Wintour has been subdued and despondent since last November, has struck back in a way in its March issue, with a series of interviews with female designers who are expressing displeasure with Clinton's opponent. "My spring-summer show was a reaction to the right wing," said Stella McCartney. "[Sarah] Burton is feeling fragile," the magazine wrote of another, who sobbed softly as she expressed her unhappiness. "Discombobulated by Brexit and the recent American elections, she is formulating her creative response." "The things we care about are being attacked," another lamented. As the reporter said sagely, "That tension makes its way into their clothes."
According to Robin Givhan of the Washington Post, it's made its way into a number of men's collections already, citing one show of "beefy men in black velvet," which expressed the "darker side" of the designer's emotions, in a "brooding commentary on life." Another dressed models in "purple camouflage overcoats, flame red satin trousers, [and] neoprene face masks" as a "call to action," of what sort wasn't mentioned. Another presentation opened with "models standing in the cramped confines of a prison yard [while] black-clad guards stood sentry. The story was not simply about race, but also gender, sexual identity, and ethnicity. [The designer eloquently tapped into concerns roiling the nation, and he used the power of fashion to underscore our stubborn reliance on stereotypes and appearances [and] segregate ourselves into opposing social tribes."
There are many critical things to say about Trump, and many people have said them, but that these are neither the things nor the people to do so scarcely needs to be said. They epitomize all the repellent traits in the left—-the whining, the preening, the identity politics — that helped Trump get elected. The fashion world may be cool, but it lacks moral agency: its members may fancy themselves as artistes, but they exist mainly to market to well-to-do people overpriced things they don't need. This isn't a crime — it employs many people and gives others pleasure, and the things that they sell are frequently beautiful — but it hardly competes as a moral transaction with things done by others, such as doctors, some teachers, and those in the armed forces and/or the police. It also lacks the intellectual authority of those who speak out of professional knowledge.
Specialized magazines are not authorities outside their realm of specific experience: Everyone has a right to express her opinion, but going to Vogue for advice about politics is like reading the National Review or the New Republic for advice on your clothes, skin and hair.
There's the plea that women's magazines understand and help women, and as such deserve to be listened to, but as Myra Adams wrote in "Spin Sisters" years ago, these magazines really understand and help Democrats, and they have hardly changed much since then. Certainly, Vogue and the other woman-based outlets express the average Democratic platform much more the opinions of most women voters, who, though somewhat more liberal than their male counterparts, are found on all points of the range.
Vogue thinks having a female president is very important, but only 31 percent of American women share this opinion. Most women (and men) want abortion restricted; Vogue wants no curtailment at all. When 53 percent of white women who know who he is voted for Trump anyhow (however reluctantly), someone's lost touch with American women, and it's not the Republican Party. It's the fashionistas and Vogue.
Noemie Emery, a Washington Examiner columnist, is a contributing editor to The Weekly Standard and author of "Great Expectations: The Troubled Lives of Political Families."