Slate's Bizbox
diary: A weeklong electronic journal.

Amy Spindler

diary
entries
12345

Posted Friday, Feb. 11, 2000, at 9:30 PM ET

This morning I'm up quite early, because this is the day I go to church. Fashion church. Most seasons, Geoffrey Beene has his show very early in the morning, earlier than any other designer in Paris, London, or Milan. Other designers know that the younger fashion people, the market editors and groovy hipsters who ultimately call in the clothes for magazines to photograph, have probably been out all night long drinking each other into a stupor, so 9 in the morning is far too early for anyone to enjoy anything. But looking at Geoffrey Beene's work isn't about pure enjoyment of fashion. It's about the rigor of fashion, the discipline. So it's straight-backed chairs, and utter silence, and cautious expressions on faces of lips-together astonishment (slack-jawed astonishment is too messy).

Mr. Beene is the only designer who insists on honorifics from almost everyone. The only other person in fashion who did that was John Fairchild, Mr. Beene's nemesis, and Mr. Fairchild retired a few years ago. (Sadly, since he gave a lot of spice to the fashion proceedings.) Yet, I might have been hallucinating, but even Mr. Fairchild, last time I spoke with him, asked me to call him "John." Although again, I can't be sure. And old habits die hard.

People who need honorifics in this world have always scared me a bit, but Mr. Beene is full of humor and dry irony about himself, so like most creative people, he's a bit of a complex bird. But I'm still a little cautious with him, which having to remember to say Mister all the time at the risk of committing some unforgivable social faux pas can make one. A year ago, no one on my staff received invitations to his show. I ran into him at an event, and said, "Mr. Beene, I was so disappointed to not be invited this year."

He replied, in his most sugary Southern drawl, "Why Amy, I just thought you were no longer interested." Hmmm. I'm not sure where that came from, because I'm quite sure we had photographed his clothes that season, but I went to the show when the invitation arrived and made sure that, for the video monitors, I looked excessively interested. And I was. Mr. Beene, unlike so many of his American peers, is a big-deal designer because he's always a wonderful inventor. And there's no great designer who hasn't invented something. (Inventing yourself doesn't count.) So last season, once again, my entire staff didn't receive their invitations. And it was during a point in my life where it had been just … one of those years. I'm not complaining, I'm just explaining: I'd had cancer, my father, whom I'd loved and adored, had died very unexpectedly. And yes, if I'd called and begged and cajoled, I'm sure I would have received my invitation, along with the other four people on the staff who needed to go. But something in me just stopped me from doing it. Life, I thought, is too short. And if Mr. Beene doesn't want me getting up extra early and looking extra interested at his extra-special clothes, I think he should have that luxury. So we all slept in that morning, especially the youngest ones, who might have been drinking themselves into a stupor the night before. And we still loved Mr. Beene just as much as we always did.

So then, a few months ago, I just missed Mr. Beene. I felt like we always had a nice laugh together, and I really admire his work, and some day, maybe when he retires, I might be allowed to call him Geoffrey. Or I might hallucinate that he asked me to. So, despite the fact that Women's Wear Daily has been banned, and Anna Wintour from Vogue had been banned, and my predecessor, Holly Brubach, had been banned, I wrote Mr. Beene a note, saying, gee, we love your work and it would be nice to come this year. This was after it was clear that we weren't going to get invitations this year, either. Well, all hell broke loose. I still don't know what happened. I mentioned we'd also like to receive a "look" book, which is a sort of catalog of every runway photo in the show so we can ask for the specific look we want to photograph.

It's too boring to go into all the complexities of the faxes, the finger-pointing, the accusations that my request for a look book unleashed. Although suffice it to say such contretemps happen in fashion every day. Emotions of those who take care of such things in my office and those who do so in his office were at a high. And then I got a note, from Mr. Beene's very sweet right arm. He said he wished I would have been more "pushy" when I didn't get invited last time.

I don't know. I think being "pushy" is a journalist's job. If I ever get sent to a bureau, and get to be a journalist again (which I'd love to someday), I'll be the requisite extra pushy to get the story. Funny how "pushy" is a pejorative word, and yet it gets so much good in the world accomplished. But fashion shows are still invitations-only events, and if someone really doesn't want you there, I don't think you should be too horribly pushy. Especially with someone who wants you to call them Mister. Which is one of the big problems with honorifics. They defuse pushiness. In the end of the day, I wrote him the note, and I'm going to church not just because I respect Mr. Beene but because I'm with the Times. And one of the missions is for the reader. And a lot of our readers love Mr. Beene's clever clothes.

I think where so many magazines go wrong today is they're trying to please advertisers, and they blow off the readers completely. The Times never forgets the readers, and every editor in the building is always, always trying to do the right thing, and the fair thing. They really always try to do their best. I'm off to Mr. Beene.

diary
entries
12345

Posted Friday, Feb. 11, 2000, at 9:30 PM ET
Print This ArticlePRINTDiscuss this in The FrayDISCUSSEmail to a FriendE-MAIL
Share on FacebookPost to MySpace!Share with MixxDigg ThisShare with RedditShare with del.icio.usShare with FurlShare with Ma.gnolia.comShare with SphereShare with Stumble Upon
Amy Spindler is the "Style" editor of the New York Times Magazine.
Join the Fray: our reader discussion forum
What did you think of this article?
POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES
Washington Post
The Washington Post
OPINIONS
The Great Debate
Marcus | Forget Biden. I'd like to see McCain face off against Palin.
Toles: Another McCain SurpriseStumped: Where's Palin's Baby?