"Tell me honestly -- does this dress make me look hunchbacked???"
Why yes, dearie, something sure does. Looks like you're sporting a severe case of scoliosis, along with some heavy duty malnutrition, anemia, and soon to be sprouting bunions from those stupidly high-heeled shoes. Not to mention that your hair looks like crap, and the color of your arms doesn't match the pallor of your face.
No, wait, maybe she's thinking, "Ohmigod, I can't even remember where I put my breasts last night!"
This, then, is the fashion magazine. Emaciated girls pose in ridiculous positions wearing mostly hideous clothing. Writers of articles describe in glowing phrases accessories that would make a parrot puke. Celebrities' photographs in designer clothing make them appear short-legged, stumpy, and pasty-faced -- well, gosh, no one took the time to Photoshop them to make them look leggy or evenly-complexioned.
In January's issue of Vogue, a two-page spread shows five emaciated blondes with languid eyes and spread legs, in lacy little baby-doll outfits. They all wear black leggings, and their arms and legs intertwine with one another's as they sprawl on a pile of hay. They all wear spike-heeled, open-toed sandals that lace like a sneaker -- some of which have floral pillowcase patterns on them. One girl has something white splashed across her chin and collarbone; considering that in the center of the photo there is a chicken, and in the background are a couple chicken coops, I puzzled for a while that the model was supposed to look like she had accidentally looked up when said chicken flew by. Then I spied the small jar of white liquid propped in the hay -- oh, I see, the girl is just supposed to be a pig who spilled stuff on herself. Oh, yeah, and she spilled it on the thigh of the girl beside her. Now WTF are we selling here? Ugly shoes? Lacy semi-garments? Lesbian orgies among the barn animals?
Upon reading this post, one might be moved to ask, "So, why do you buy this mag if you hate what you see so much?"
I do it just to keep an eye on what fashion is doing. On a rare occasion, I'll see something that makes sense. Or maybe I'll see a horrid outfit, that with a little help, could turn out to be nice. Once or twice a year, I'll buy the magazine just to remind myself of how awful certain fashions look, even on supermodels.
Actually the dress at the top isn't too bad. At least it wouldn't be if the wearer could stand up straight, perch on a stool to keep the fabric flowing, and glue down the front to make sure her nipples weren't showing.
And eat a damn sandwich.