Vogue is Boring.

Picture: Kate Mos by Mario Testino

Before I get stabbed by the clunky heels of a flock of Rodarte wearing fashionistas, let me explain myself. I am (or was) a big fan of Vogue. It is arguably one of the most influential, groundbreaking and inspiring publications. It's editorials are impeccable and all the contributors are astoundingly talented, but I recently realised that my relationship with Vogue magazine is going through a very rough patch. Mainly because Vogue has stopped surprising me. I have completely lost my interest.

I consider myself to be a big fan of the press, and although I follow blog after blog, nothing really compares to the feeling of a shiny, big magazine or the crisp, well folded newspaper safely resting in my arms as I move away from the newsstand. As I put down the latest issue of British Vogue though, I most certainly did not feel satisfied. Not being keen on jumping on the bandwagon and feeding everyone the "print is dead" or "fashion magazines give a detached, one sided view of fashion", I'm prepared to fully explain myself.

No offence, my old friend, Vogue but you are so fucking boring. Let me walk you through it. The first 20 pages are advertisements. Beautifully styled, well framed, meticulously photoshopped advertisements. As I flicked through the sea of models doing the "power pose" in silk blouses and semi naked sex kittens lustfully looking at perfume bottles, I stumbled upon the editorial. Great, I thought, let's read what Alexandra Shulman has to say this month. Snooze. 500 canned words about the issue and the "inspiring" jet-setting artists that it includes. I've come to believe that she submits the same editorial every month, and simply changes the names included. Flicking through the rest of the pages towards the end, there is literally nothing that catches my eye. That is nothing worth reading, since the pictures and the apparel and accessories are attractive enough. But as I reach the end (after reading a 2-page article about eyebrows), I realise that I'm only looking at pretty pictures.

Where have your magnificent writers gone, Vogue? Where are the interesting pieces? The reviews worth reading? Hell, I'd even settle for a semi-interesting catwalk review. Sure there was the Rodarte piece, and the spread on Dolce and Gabbana as well as a Kate Winslet piece, but none of that stuff was even remotely interesting to me. Mainly because they weren't relatable and at the same time didn't say anything that felt new or innovative.

For me, it's very rare to find fashion articles that are engaging, that contain a certain cultural background and demonstrate a certain point of view which distinguishes the writer. So oftentimes, I make excuses for fashion bloggers, when their actual writing becomes a self-obsessed snooze that repeats the phrase "I've fallen in love with...(insert new, seemingly obscure luxury brand). But I am not prepared to make any sort of excuses for Vogue articles, since they are expected to be nothing short of impeccable.

I ask myself, dear Vogue, since the editorials and photo spreads are magnificent, why is it that the articles have been going downhill? Why is it that the one fashion magazine that set all the standards that no other could live up to, has fallen in the predictable, target audience marketed rut? The times are a-changing for the press, and especially now, where suddenly everyone writes a damn fashion blog, it's no time for Vogue to stop splurging on quality and actual content. It's no time for Vogue to stop pushing boundaries.

Where's the inspiration then? Get out of your designer minimal office, hop on your Louboutins and take a walk down the POP magazine office, dear Vogue editors. Maybe you'll get a couple of avant garde ideas.

And on a last note, I'm not buying the magazine again unless I see a cover that even remotely reflects or evokes the epic Vogue covers of the past. I like to think you've still got it Vogue. It's just a little rusty.