Excerpts From the March 2015 Vogue, Presented Without Commentary


Then again, during the entirety of the three-day affair, sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s, white and black tie were the easiest dictates of a quartet of dress codes that included Gaucho and Tango Smart.

The arrival of the bride, meanwhile, who emerged on the bow of the wooden speedboat like a living figurehead, veil whipping in the wind, was mirage-like, for even the most jaded fashion folk in attendance. Her Valentino couture dress, which required 1,800 hours’ worth of bas-relief pearl and crystal embroider, forsook the traditional bridal white for pale chalcedony tulle that blended seamlessly into the soft gray of the beach and the murky green of the Machete River beyond.

And so the bride and groom, who have homes in New York and Paris, selected a series of venues that represented Sofia’s own history in the region and revealed the most pristine and epic vistas of untouched nature, from the foothills of the Andes to desolate lakeside beaches.

For the wedding lunch the next day, sixteen whole lambs were cooked on weeping willow-branch crosses.

At her mother’s beautifully appointed home overlooking a forest, where Missoni’s young family are residing until their new “contemporary barn” designed by architect Aldo Cibic is constructed, Otto crawls on the sixties mosaic floor Margherita’s grandmother Rosita Missoni designed as his mother prepares swordfish and a pomegranate salad for an impromptu lunch.

In short, this is not one of those artfully staged gluten-free lifestyles; it’s an infectiously familial and real reimaging of what the contemporary Italian good life is about.

What better cicerone for a romp through Austria than the lovely Caroline Sieber, whose 2013 wedding in Vienna to Fritz von Westenholz had me swooning with the beauty of the city — and of the bride, of course, in her magnificent Chanel couture gown designed in homage to the Empress Sisi.

Well and truly schlossed, we pushed on to Vienna, thither to drool over the wasp-waisted Empress Sisi’s Winterhalter portraits amid the treasures at the Hofburg Palace (chicest accoutrement of all: her fan, in fawn-colored leather, made specially for riding); feasted on cakes at Demel, supplier of frosted violets to the doomed empress; and feasted some more at Zum Schwarzen Kameel and in the crimson dining room of the storied hotel Sacher.

“A woman in white is a decadent prospect,” says Alexa Chung with Austen-like clarity, and she should know.

Of course, moving houses can be one of the most traumatic experiences in life, and Anderson now has two of them to run.

“We all sit down for lunch every day,” he says. “Very French and civilized — plus, it’s good for morale.”

This plebeian item had been in production for more than 30 years, and though it had been a favorite of hip-hop artists in the eighties, it is safe to say that none of its original wearers envisioned this garment with a wild profusion of plissé paneling colonizing its formerly conventional rear panel.

A working Brooklyn mother’s week in exercise: a post-brunch session of micro-bends at a barre studio on Sunday. An excrutiating hour after work on Tuesday heeding the instructor’s cries of “Hup! Hup!” at Barry’s Bootcamp. A gentle Saturday-morning yoga class at a studio in the neighborhood. A promiscuous schedule, but whose isn’t?

Swift is, by all accounts, an amazing person to be friends with. She cooks, she bakes, she does the dishes, she’s a fantastic host, she gives great gifts. She has a collection of old-timey nightgowns that she and her friends wear while watching television and — technology aside — pretending they’re living in frontier days.