Because I was a weird kid, I’ve been reading Vanity Fair since I was, like, 14. There’s nothing I enjoy more than long-form stories about society murders, celebrity addicts and presidential affairs. Every year, Vanity Fair also comes up with a best-dressed list, chock full of names of socialites, French nobility and a gallimaufry of minor European royalty. Usually I don’t know more than a few of the names on the list, and couldn’t even begin to imagine the clothing budgets these people must have.
But this year, VF is making things a bit more democratic. In a ploy to seem relevant, the aged magazine is opening its Best Dressed competition to the public. Nan Kempner is rolling over in her extra-small couture grave. The competition’s been opened up, explains Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter, because practically everyone famous has a stylist these days, and it’s easier than ever to appear fashionable without having a stylish bone in your body. To enter, ersatz stylish dressers must submit a photo of themselves to the VF website. There, readers can vote on their favorite outfits. Eventually one man and one woman will be chosen for inclusion to the best dressed list.
But really, what kind of delusional, fantastical image of yourself must you have to think you should be on some international best dressed list? It blows my mind, but then again, the Internet was made for extreme narcissism, so carry on, you finely dressed folks. [Vanity Fair]