Anna Wintour: a rare face-to-face with the most important
woman in fashion
Anna Wintour
editor-in-chief American Vogue. Photograph: Tyler Mitchell
The editor-in-chief of American Vogue talks to Jess
Cartner-Morley about Michelle Obama, fake news and only spending 20 minutes at
parties.
Portraits by Tyler Mitchell
Sat 16 Feb 2019 06.00 GMT
One morning last August, Anna Wintour was playing tennis
with her coach in the 40-acre grounds of her Long Island summerhouse. She
noticed he seemed a little distracted: “But his wife was about to have a baby,
so I thought he was nervous about that.” Then it struck her that they had
attracted an unusual number of spectators. The house was brimful with family,
but it was earlier than most people get up on a weekend. (“I’m a morning
person,” says Wintour, for whom anything later than 5am constitutes a lie-in.)
As she prepared to serve, she heard a car pull up. “I am pretty OCD about
guests and where they are sleeping. I thought, I’m not expecting anyone else, I
don’t have any more rooms. Who is this? And then I thought – that looks like
Roger [Federer, with whom Wintour is good friends]. And that looks like [his
wife] Mirka. And that looks like their twins.” Wintour’s daughter Bee Shaffer,
it transpired, had arranged for a Federer-Wintour family tennis tournament,
“which was the best gift a daughter could give a tennis-mad mother. I got to
play doubles with Roger for the first time in our very long friendship, against
my two nephews.” Twenty-five floors above Manhattan, behind the ebonised
mahogany Alan Buchsbaum desk from which she has ruled the fashion world for
three decades, she leans back in her chair and smiles at the memory. “We won,
of course.”
Of course. Anna Wintour plays to win in everything she does.
She is editor-in-chief of American Vogue and artistic director of parent
company Condé Nast, but her job titles do not come close to describing her
iconic status. Vogue has been a launchpad from which she has powered herself to
become a player in culture and politics. She is a fashion industry kingmaker, a
Washington insider (Barack Obama’s fourth-biggest fundraiser in the 2012
campaign), an art world luminary (the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan
Museum was renamed in her honour in 2014) and a Dame of the British Empire. And
her haircut alone – as preternaturally unruffled and impenetrable up close as
it looks in photographs – is recognisable from space.
The Anna Wintour mythology is as much about power as it is
about fashion. It owes a great deal to the 2006 film The Devil Wears Prada in
which Meryl Streep’s ice-queen editor, assumed to be a cartoonised Wintour,
created a character that popular culture has thrilled to ever since. Such is
her fame that a mere rumour of her departure is enough to send shockwaves
through the fashion and media worlds. (Last summer, these rose to such a
clamour that Condé Nast issued a statement confirming Wintour would remain at
Vogue “indefinitely”.)
Her office has an air of ambassadorial gentility. No
industrial styling, no modish succulents. Definitely no treadmill desk. The
south wall is glass, diffusing the room with silver light bouncing off the
towers of the financial district. Framed photos of her son Charles and Bee, as
children and as the thirtysomethings they are now, are prominently displayed on
her desk, on the window ledge and between a pair of topiaried miniature trees
standing sentry on the limewashed sideboard. A cornflower-blue ceramic vase is
filled with fresh ranunculus in Titian reds and coppers; a glass pot holds
sharpened HB pencils. Only the lipstick mark on the grande Starbucks coffee cup
and the Chanel sunglasses in the in-tray give the Vogue game away.
I am summoned to this inner sanctum 10 minutes before our
scheduled 9am interview time. Wintour is wearing a calf-length Erdem dress in
dark silk with a bright floral print, collared with two sparkling necklaces. A
blush pink coat and a jade green scarf are thrown over a corner chair next to a
small Victoria Beckham black leather tote. With characteristic briskness, she
has already wrapped her portrait shoot with Tyler Mitchell, who last year
became the first black person to shoot a Vogue cover when he photographed
Beyoncé for Wintour’s September issue. “He’s charming, he’s intelligent – I’ve
been impressed by what he’s said yes to, and what he’s said no to,” she says of
Mitchell. “Also, he’s quick.”
Before the shoot, she was watching Andy Murray’s match at
the Australian Open on television – his first after announcing his retirement.
“So emotional,” she says, gravely. Is it true that she herself plays tennis
every day at 5am? “I don’t play tennis as much as I used to, but I get up every
day between 4am and 5am, and I work out every day.” (Her game is, she says,
“terrible! But I enjoy it.”) While we’re on the subject, this seems an
opportune moment to verify some of the other Anna Wintour myths. What about
spending only 20 minutes at parties? “Well, it depends on the party. If it is
fashion week, then most likely I will be in and out. But there have been many
times I have stayed a lot longer, believe me.” She is smiling, but her folded
arms semaphore impatience to change the subject. I am sorry to say that I
chicken out of asking her if it’s true about eating medium rare steak for lunch
every day.
Becoming a public figure in a way no other Vogue editor ever
has been “wasn’t a conscious path”, she insists. “I don’t work for Anna Wintour,
I work for Condé Nast. I don’t have any kind of social media accounts or look
for personal recognition.” But Wintour is instantly recognisable, thanks to a
style that has remained almost unchanged since the 80s. Her sleek bob teamed
with a sharp wit has often been a power combination, channelled by Uma Thurman
as Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction, by the diminutive Edna Mode in The Incredibles
and by Taylor Swift at her most sassy. But the style was “not a strategic
decision”, Wintour insists. “I feel comfortable with it, that’s all. I am a
creature of habit. Honestly, Jess, it’s not something I spend any time thinking
about at all. I come to the office and do my job.”
Wintour’s image of cool, impermeable authority has become a
blueprint for successful female leadership. I am sure I even caught something
of Wintour’s staccato delivery in the sardonic crispness of Emily Blunt’s Mary
Poppins. The notion raises a smile, but Wintour has a politician’s sleight of
hand when it comes to answering questions she doesn’t like, segueing to her
preferred talking points. She steers the conversation away from her own image
and on to how Vogue is championing women in political leadership. “I was very
encouraged by our midterm results on that front. I believe women are taking
control and standing up for what they believe in. We are in a moment of huge
change.” She reels off an impressive list of female politicians who have
appeared in the magazine recently, including Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Amy
Klobuchar, Lauren Underwood, Kirsten Gillibrand and Kamala Harris.
For the best part of two decades, Wintour’s Vogue was closer
to the White House than Vogue had ever been. Hillary Clinton became the first
first lady to cover Vogue in 1998 – an honour not bestowed, even, on Jackie
Kennedy – and in 2016, Vogue endorsed her presidential candidacy, the first
time the magazine had ever been publicly partisan. But it is the mention of
Michelle Obama that sends Wintour into raptures. “What intrigued me and the
rest of the world about Mrs Obama from the beginning was her poise, her
intelligence, her grace, how articulate she was, and the sense that she gave of
being a true partner to her husband. She was remarkable in so many ways – and
still is, look at the incredible success of her book – and I was thrilled to
see how she embraced fashion in such a democratic way. She would wear leggings
one day, a designer gown the next, and look comfortable in both. She wasn’t
locked into one idea of how a first lady should dress. For Vogue, she was a
gift.” When the Met’s Costume Institute was renamed in recognition of Wintour’s
work as a fundraiser and cheerleader, Michelle Obama cut the ribbon, saying,
“I’m here because I have such respect and admiration for this woman, who I am
proud to call my friend.”
Since Trump’s election, Vogue has found itself in
opposition, a position it has embraced with unexpected relish. The September
issue included a profile on Stormy Daniels (the adult film star who had a hush
money deal with the president) which saw Daniels resplendent in evening gown
and Tiffany diamonds, photographed by Annie Leibovitz. “Today’s audience – not
just Vogue’s audience, every audience – wants journalism to take a stand,”
Wintour says. “People want to know what you believe in and what you stand for.
In this time of fake news, when there is so much disregard for truth and value
and for supporting those less fortunate than oneself, we have a moral
obligation to stand up for what’s right.”
While Michelle Obama starred on three Vogue covers as first
lady, Melania Trump is still waiting for Wintour to call. Will Melania be in
Vogue, I ask? “Melania has been on the cover of Vogue,” Wintour fires back
without missing a beat. Indeed she has, in her wedding dress, in 2005, but not
as first lady, representing the White House. “We do report on Melania
consistently, on vogue.com,” says Wintour. “Which is Vogue.” Her inflection
puts the emphasis firmly on the full stop.
She picks up her mobile phone. “I’m going to ask someone to
bring me another coffee. Would you like one?” I say no, and wait for her to
make her call, but after a few seconds she raises an amused eyebrow at me. “Go
ahead. I can type and think at the same time, you know.” She has texted the
coffee request, I realise. As perfect as Wintour’s manners are, I do not get
the impression it would be wise to put them to the test by boring her. I try
not to think about the scene in the 2009 Vogue documentary The September Issue
when Stefano Pilati, then designer of Yves Saint Laurent, withers under her
stony-faced appraisal of his latest collection.
Born in London in 1949 to a British father (Evening Standard
editor Charles Wintour) and an American mother, Wintour moved to New York in
her 20s. She returned to London in 1985 to edit British Vogue, but was back in
New York two years later. Her first issue as editor of American Vogue, in
November 1988, featured a model wearing jeans, which famously caused the
printers to call Vogue’s office to check they had the right picture. It was an
early signpost of the shift from fashion being “something that was directed at
a small group, to becoming something that speaks to everyone. That has been the
most extraordinary change that I have seen.” As fashion has swelled to a
powerful force in culture over the last three decades, Vogue has ridden the
crest of that wave. A Vogue cover has become an official stamp not just of
beauty, but of relevance. For Amal Clooney, Serena Williams and others, a Vogue
cover has signalled a change in gear from success in their field to general
superstardom. “Vogue stands for quality,” Wintour says. “To be recognised by
Vogue always has an impact.”
In 1998, Renée Zellweger became the first non-model to cover
an all-important September issue of Vogue (traditionally the biggest of the
year). As the era of the supermodel waned, Wintour coached and coaxed a new
generation of actresses to take their place. “The supermodels led us to
celebrity,” Wintour says. “The generation of models who came after the supers
just wanted to be models, and didn’t want that spotlight. Meanwhile,
celebrities were starting to engage with fashion, realising the power of
fashion to build their personality, to express who they were, on the red carpet
or the front row. So the supermodels ended up being replaced by celebrities.”
The alchemy that happens when fashion meets celebrity is at its most potent at
the Met Gala, over which Wintour (who has chaired the event since 1995) will
once again preside on the first Monday in May.
But today Wintour, who rarely gives interviews, seems less
interested in talking frocks than in establishing her place on the right side
of history. “I hope I have been able to use the platform of Vogue to do a
little bit of good in the world,” she says. She mentions the CFDA Fashion Fund,
launched in the aftermath of 9/11 to support young American designers. “It has
been wonderful to see Condé Nast and Vogue taking leadership in championing
diversity. As a company, we want to stand for positive change. I personally
take that very seriously, but it’s not just about me. Edward Enninful was such
an important appointment at British Vogue, and he is leading the way on
diversity.” I ask who her mentors and allies have been, and she namechecks Condé
Nast luminaries Si Newhouse and Alexander Liberman, and designers Karl
Lagerfeld, Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren, before landing on Kay Graham,
publisher of the Washington Post during the Watergate era. “She was a great
friend of my father’s and became a great friend of mine. I admired everything
she stood for, how she represented the progress of women, how she stood her
ground against the White House. She believed in her editors, she had wonderful
women friends and was a deeply good person and had a lot of fun. And [she] was
a great tennis player.”
It is a year since the New York Times published allegations
of sexual misconduct against Mario Testino and Bruce Weber, two star
photographers of Wintour’s Vogue. Wintour has faced criticism for having failed
to use her power to better protect the vulnerable in fashion. “We take very
seriously events that happen in the industry, whether in or out of our
control,” she says today, “and after so many unfortunate incidents came to
light, we took a strong stand.” Testino and Weber were banished from Vogue. A
new Condé Nast code of conduct forbids the hiring of models under 18, and
requires images involving nudity, swimwear, lingerie or suggestive poses to be
approved in advance by the subject.
How long Wintour will remain at Vogue is impossible to predict,
because Condé Nast is itself in turmoil. Having lost an estimated $250m over
the past two years, the company recently announced plans to merge US and
international operations, and is searching for a new CEO to replace the
departing Bob Sauerberg. Wintour enthuses about the digital age as “a golden
era for journalism, because we have the luxury of being able to talk to more
people than ever before”, but digital has undoubtedly eroded the might of
Vogue. The magazine’s Instagram account has 21.5 million followers but that
sounds less impressive when you note that three of the Kardashian family – Kim,
Kylie and Kendall – have more than 100 million followers each.
Wintour insists that she believes print magazines will be
around “for ever”. Really? “Yes, for ever. I really believe that. Print remains
the jewel in the crown.” Does she think of Vogue as a magazine, these days, or
is it now a brand? “I don’t care for the word brand, to be honest,” she says.
“It makes me feel like I’m in a supermarket. But I love Vogue – very deeply.”
She types a few words on her phone and the door opens to signal our time is up.
She walks me to her door, shakes my hand, bids me a warm goodbye and turns to
her assistant. “I asked for a coffee,” she says. There is no discernible hint
in her tone that this is a sackable offence. But then, Anna Wintour doesn’t
give much away.
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