Cathy Horyn [Astrid Stawiarz/Getty Images]
In 2012, no one in the fashion world was talked about more than Cathy Horyn, the fashion critic for The New York Times. Horyn—who favors basic black over designer furs and oversize sunglasses—has a take-no-prisoners approach to covering the runways of New York, Paris and Milan. And Horyn’s unadulterated opinions have made her an instant, if unwilling celebrity. She has been dissed by Lady Gaga in a rap song, prompted Oscar de la Renta to publish an open letter in Women's Wear Daily comparing her to a “stale hamburger” and Hedi Slimane not only banned Horyn from his Saint Laurent comeback/debut but took to Twitter to publish a letter ripping the critic to shreds. How important is Horyn in the world of high-end luxury fashion and is the fashion critic more powerful than the ever-growing population of fawning bloggers in the front row? ZANDILE BLAY gets in the trenches of this year’s style wars.
This is a story about the power of prose and Cathy Horyn, the fashion critic for The New York Times who wielded her mighty pen in 2012 and caused a series of mini-fashion wars.
But before we go there, let’s start here: a brisk Saturday afternoon in Milan. The date is October 1, 1994 and the place is an airy studio, currently bustling with activity. As a diverse group assembles in front of the camera, the venerable Richard Avedon steps behind it. What was he thinking as he stared at the scene?
One can only imagine.
Seated before him are a group of iconic fashion journalists. On sheer talent alone, they’ve each emerged as rock stars in the publishing world, twenty years before Twitter and blogs became the playbook for ambitious editors. They included Suzy Menkes, Franca Sozzani, John Fairchild, Joan Juliet Buck, Marina Schiano, Grace Coddington, Polly Mellen, André Leon Talley and the late Amy Spindler, Anna Piaggi and Liz Tilberis. They have gathered for a seminal portrait titled “The Style Council,” to be featured in The New Yorker. Each, with the exception of an absentee Fairchild who was stuck in traffic, is draped in luxe, sumptuous pieces, creating an effect so chic it’s difficult to believe there were no stylists on set. But of course, none were needed. This peerless group not only knew how to educate their audiences on style—they effortlessly embodied it.
Having reached high-ranking positions at publications like Vogue, The International Herald Tribune and Women’s Wear Daily, each had a lot to celebrate. But one had particular reason to be proud: Amy Spindler. The striking brunette, who’d worked her way from writing press releases at Condé Nast’s Brides magazine to The New York Times style desk, had recently received some good news. That year, she’d been announced as the first fashion critic in the history of the Times.
If her title was glamorous, the directive wasn’t: winning over an audience more comfortable with the politics of Washington than the politics of style. Spindler approached this challenge with her usual brilliance. Under her watch, she elevated fashion criticism, infusing reviews with an honesty and objectivity that rocked a field accustomed to fawning critiques.
By 1998 when Spindler was announced as the Style Editor for the New York Times magazine, her legacy was already cemented. She transformed the pages of the publication into a haven for fashion insiders and fans alike. She built its foundation as a trusted source for designers interested in a fair analysis of their collection. And ultimately—by her cancer-induced retirement in 2003—she’d created the ideal environment for her successor, Cathy Horyn.
The transition was seamless. And why wouldn’t it be? After all, both Horyn and Spindler shared the same essence: Midwestern girls with a passion for plain talk and propensity for powerful writing. Horyn confirmed their simpatico in the Times obituary she wrote for Spindler. In it, she highlights qualities that distinguished her former editor. Yet line for line, Horyn could have easily been speaking of herself. “In an industry more accustomed to flattery and sympathetic reviews, [Spindler] possessed a rare nerve, upbraiding fashion executives when she thought they were dissembling and beseeching designers to be better than they were.”
Upon Spindler’s tragic passing at age 40 in 2004, Horyn was promoted to become the second fashion critic in the Times’ history. Besides her similarities to Spindler, Horyn had education and experience to recommend her for this. The Ohio native came to the Times a graduate of Barnard Women’s college and Northwestern’s acclaimed Medill School of Journalism masters program. Post graduation, Horyn held a brief stint with the Associated Press in Chicago before moving on to the Virginia-Pilot where she covered every beat from courts to education. But her fashion reporting career began in earnest at The Detroit News in 1986 where she was hired to write about style in the city and region. Next up was the Washington Post in 1996, where she stayed until 1998 when Vanity Fair came calling. By the end of that year, she’d landed at the Times, beginning her long running reign at the publication which continues to this day. When reached by SCENE for an interview, Horyn responded by email: “I have to pass on your request for an interview, because of my work load and because some of the issues you might raise are ones that I may at some stage want to write about in the Times.”
With her promotion to fashion critic, Horyn took her seat at the table of noted journalists as Spindler had before her. Now, Horyn could count a new generation of star critics as colleagues. These included the Pulitzer Prize-winning Robin Givhan of Newsweek and Hilary Alexander of The Daily Telegraph in London. All were equally revered for blunt and honest reviews, but there was something different about Horyn.
Where her peers gave firm nudges, Horyn delivered a hard slap. Where they subdued with a stern tone, Horyn demolished with straight talk. And where others played objective while playing nice, Horyn seemed uninterested in games and unapologetic for her harshness. Perhaps this could account for the lukewarm reaction from some members of the Council of Fashion Designers of America when they honored Horyn with the Eugenia Sheppard Award in 2002. An article in WWD announcing this featured a less-than-effusive quote from Oscar de la Renta. “Cathy Horyn is not one who loves fashion or enhances fashion in any manner,” he said. “There are personal commentaries and digs, not only about the designers, but about people who attend the shows, which I consider unnecessary and unprofessional in reviewing a collection… I’ll say it. I’m not a coward.”
He’s also not alone.
In Jacob Bernstein’s recent profile on Horyn for The Daily Beast, he gathered revealing quotes on Horyn from noted fashion insiders and designers. Bob Colacello of Vanity Fair divulged, “I think her sentences are like a series of poses. It’s as if she’s walking down the runway as she’s writing. She’s intelligent, but I think she’s trying to make something out of fashion that it isn’t.” Karl Lagerfeld sniped, “I prefer to look at beautiful pictures in magazines like American Vogue and French Vogue by editors like Anna Wintour and Carine Roitfeld.” Carolina Herrera was indirectly direct, “I don’t think reviews really matter anymore.” While Donna Karan was comparatively kind, “You can agree or disagree with her, but it’s definitely passionate. She’s not neutered, let’s put it that way.”
Other designers, such as Giorgio Armani, Dolce & Gabbana, Helmut Lang and Nicole Miller, who haven’t publicly verbalized their opinions with words, have done so with action, by banning Horyn from shows at one point or another. For a field that makes money by making nice with brands, disputes of this magnitude are rare, to say the least. Yet in Horyn’s case, it has happened so regularly that her war of words with designers has become commonplace.
In 2003 she called Ralph Lauren, a noted favorite of hers, “a little man astride a horse swinging a polo mallet.” In 2009, Horyn questioned: “What’s Wrong With Vogue?” and labeled the magazine “out of touch.” That same year, she dismissed “It-boy” designer Alexander Wang as “not that great.” While at the Tommy Hilfiger 25th Anniversary show, she declared “For Mr. Hilfiger, the runway [show] may be paved in imitation fieldstone.” Horyn’s prickly pen is not reserved for fashion folk alone. In her 2010 profile of Jersey Shore’s Snooki Polizzi she wrote, “Trying to hold a conversation with Snooki is a little like getting down on your hands and knees with a child.”
Yet Horyn's most comical dig was reserved for her least likely fan, Oscar de la Renta, whom she described in September as such: Mr. de la Renta is far more a hot dog than an éminence grise of American fashion,” a statement which prompted de la Renta to respond with a full page open letter in WWD calling Horyn “a stale 3-day old hamburger.” At press time, calls and emails to Mr. de la Renta’s atelier were not returned.
For all the highs and lows throughout her decade of verbal sparring, these battles would prove to be just a warm-up. Her fiercest battle unfolded this past October, and in an ironic twist, was caused not by something Horyn wrote directly but what her adversary assumed. To the blogosphere it read like a titillating back and forth between a regaled critic and a revered designer. To the industry, it seemed like the latest battle in a war of words that’s wearing thin. But for history, this latest dust-up is positioned as a pivotal point in the progress of fashion criticism.
This feud, of course, is Horyn vs. Slimane.
There’s something at once potent and pointless about a fashion review.
On one hand, it provides a much-needed textual framework for fashion enthusiasts, novices and insiders to understand a collection. Kind words serve as a balm for the hard working designer and a guide for the potential investor and buyer, while harsh ones—if constructive—provide a blueprint for brands to revamp their direction.
And yet on the other, it does nearly nothing to help meet their bottom line: sales.
“In the end, buyers are still going to buy and negative reviews sound more like sour grapes,” explains Daniel Saynt, founder of Socialyte.Co and a pioneering blogger. “Ultimately, the consumers decide what makes a good collection and what does not. Brands need to learn to cater to the most socially empowered consumers first and foremost. These are the lifeblood of the process, not the critics.”
This new paradigm may be effective for building sales, but it erodes everything else according to a lengthy article by David Graham on the disappearing art of fashion criticism. “Bloggers are the new critics,” declared Graham in the Toronto Star earlier this year. “[They are] often dazzled by celebrity culture, [and] at best they offer snappy if uninformed commentary. Mostly it comes down to stating the obvious—short hemlines, bright prints etc. And as social media (including tweeting) insinuates itself in the front row, considered opinion is more often a simplistic rush to judgment.”
Beyond serious criticism, fashion journalism as a whole offers no balance, as publications limply take their place in “the business of cheerleading” fashion brands. “They are notoriously submissive,” writes Graham, “[they] are unwilling to criticize because they are wed inextricably to advertising dollars.”
And so like the British monarchy, noted fashion critics who are tantamount to fashion royalty wield power that is largely symbolic and impact only to a few. But make no mistake—for those insiders who are impacted—reviews remain vital. Especially when said insider is on the verge of one of the most important moments of their career: showing their debut collection for a leading Parisian house. For said insider, it would be a day to court the most positive review possible—and avoid bad ones at all costs.
This could explain Hedi Slimane’s mood this past October as he prepared to return to the catwalk since his days at Dior. After a long hiatus from designing, he was named as the Creative Director at Saint Laurent (Slimane dropped the Yves from the label’s name). Over at Dior, fellow designer Raf Simons was in the same position, preparing to debut his first collection for the house since being named as John Galliano’s successor.
But these boys had more than new jobs in common—they had an old grudge and the linchpin was Horyn. A 2004 review of Simons’ collection so incensed Slimane that, according to Horyn, the designer hadn’t acknowledged her in years.
“Despite positive reviews of his early YSL and Dior collections, as well as a profile, Mr. Slimane objected bitterly to a review I wrote in 2004—not about him but Raf Simons,” wrote Horyn on the Times’ Runway blog. “Essentially I wrote that without Mr. Simons’ template of slim tailoring and street casting, there would not have been a Hedi Slimane.”
So when it came time for invitations to roll around, it’s no wonder Horyn assumed hers wasn’t in the mail—a sentiment Slimane confirmed with a deliciously catty, if slightly petty, letter on Twitter. He opens his note, painstakingly designed to mimic the Times’ font, by calling Horyn “a schoolyard bully” and an “average writer” then concludes:
“...as far as I’m concerned, she will never get a seat at Saint Laurent, but might get 2 for 1 at Dior. She should rejoice. I don’t mind critics [sic] but they have to come from a fashion critic, not a publicist in disguise. I am quite mesmerized she did get away with it for so many years.” When reached for a comment about his Twitter remarks about Horyn, the Saint Laurent team responded “Mr. Slimane is not available for interviews at the moment.”
He made good on his tantrum and Horyn was barred from the show. Undaunted, she reviewed the collection through images online and turned in her lukewarm review: “The collection was a nice but frozen vision of a bohemian chic at the Chateau Marmont. Considering that Mr. Slimane was an avatar of youthful style, I expected more from this debut. I had the impression from the clothes of someone disconnected from fashion of the past several years.”
Save a quote to WWD by Horyn calling the letter “silly nonsense” and a Tweet from Slimane stating,“What is a ‘silly nonsense’ to me is Horyn still singing her tired biased tune for the Times,” there’s been no further public back and forth between Horyn and Slimane. Yet for a closed case it’s opened a Pandora’s box of opinions from bloggers, journalists and even celebrities like Lady Gaga who retweeted Slimane’s open letter, then rapped, “[Horyn’s] style ain’t dick” in her new rap song “Cake,” which she debuted at the Mugler show.
As people rush to choose sides, one insider isn’t moved: Pierre Rougier, Principal of leading fashion publicity firm, PR Consulting.
“I would not qualify this as a feud really,” opines Rougier. “A feud would entail that both sides are engaged and in this case, I see this more as a critic doing her job and a designer having a hard time dealing with it.”
This straightforward view underscores an often-overlooked point: Horyn’s honesty and unvarnished words, no matter how harsh, fall within the line of duty of any fashion critic, editor or blogger. In a series of off-the-record conversations, several editors from leading fashion publications agree, though many take note of Horyn’s tone which some referred to as “mean-spirited,” “unnecessarily rude,” and “snobbish.”
For Rougier, tone is hardly the measure of a good or bad review.
“Relevant or not, it is how one should look at reviews,” he argues. “In Ms. Horyn’s case, one should not forget that she is not an editor when reporting on shows, she is a critic, which is a very different job. A critic is someone with an opinion, a point of view, not just a fact-reporting editor. If you [want] an educated point of view ... it is very interesting to read her.”
And yet, “interesting” and “point of view” are two descriptions that are fast losing ground as more and more critics at publications and sites make “sycophantic” and “gushing” reviews the norm. It’s an issue acknowledged by Melissa Chessher, Chair of the magazine department at Syracuse University’s S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications—one of the first in the country to offer fashion journalism courses.
“Fashion journalism attracts people who love fashion,” she says, “But that fan mindset doesn’t serve the reader or the story well when that adoration undermines the whole ‘truth to power’ mantra that underscores good journalism.”
Roger Tredre, Journalism Course Director at Central Saint Martins’ prestigious M.A. Fashion program in London agrees. “Fashion journalism has arguably fewer people than in other sectors prepared to stand up to these pressures,” says Tredre. “We should celebrate the few who do and recognize them as ‘real journalists’ producing ‘real journalism,’ Chessher says.
This had to be the point and purpose behind Avedon’s seminal The Style Council portrait that cool October afternoon in Milan nearly 20 years ago. The hands of time have had an uneven effect on the journalists he captured. Some have passed from this world, some have moved on from the industry and some maintain their positions. But all have remained icons, and knowing this imbues the portrait with a special mystic. One look and you are transported into a moment when informed and impassioned fashion journalists like Horyn were the critics not the critiqued. That’s a moment worth capturing. That’s what Avedon must have been thinking.