Remember Anna Wintour's shocking first Vogue cover?
By today's standards, the front cover of American Vogue's November 1988 edition seems typical enough. Beside the text 'the real cost of looking good,' Israeli model Michaela Bercu gazes past the camera, her windswept hair brushing across the shoulders of a bejeweled $10,000 Christian Lacroix couture jacket.
Yet, the cover signaled a revolution at the storied fashion bible. It also marked two important — and related — firsts: This was the first Vogue cover produced by editor-in-chief Anna Wintour and the first ever to feature a pair of jeans.
London-born Wintour, who on Thursday stepped down from the role after 37 years (she will remain as Vogue's global editorial director and publisher Condé Nast's global chief content officer), had been hired to shake things up. The magazine's previous editor, Grace Mirabella, oversaw a surge in readership but was, by her own admission, increasingly out of step with the 1980s zeitgeist. Condé Nast executives were reportedly worried the title was losing its edge. Mirabella had famously repainted former editor Diana Vreeland's red office a shade of beige, which became a metaphor for her reputation as being too unadventurous.
Practically every American Vogue cover from 1980 to 1988 had been taken by Richard Avedon, a fashion photographer known for his stark, minimalist style. Models were usually shot against plain studio backgrounds in heavy makeup and statement jewelry. The covers were self-consciously elegant, standing aloof from the more mainstream women's weeklies they shared newsstands with.
By contrast, Wintour's debut was warm and easygoing. German photographer Peter Lindbergh held the shoot outdoors rather than in a controlled studio; Bercu's eyes were neither fully open nor looking directly at the camera. As a result, she came across as a glamorous everywoman. Wintour's unpretentious approach was seemingly epitomized by another coverline on that first issue: 'Paris couture: haut but not haughty.'
'It looked easy, casual, a moment that had been snapped on the street, which it had been, and which was the whole point,' Wintour recalled in a Vogue feature marking publication's 120th anniversary.
Then there were the jeans. These were not a high-fashion label's take on Americana, they were stonewashed denim pants straight from Guess. Having launched less than a decade earlier, the denim brand's highest-profile moment at that point had come courtesy of Michael J. Fox, who wore a pair of Guess jeans as Marty McFly in 1985's 'Back to the Future.'
As such, both in style and styling, Wintour's first cover was a major statement — one that set the tone for hundreds of issues to follow. She went on to forge an editorial identity her predecessors might have looked down on, from spotlighting pop culture icons to featuring a man on the cover (Richard Gere, who appeared alongside then-wife Cindy Crawford).
But there was an element of luck behind her debut issue, too. Wintour has since revealed that the jeans were a last-minute decision forced upon the shoot's stylist, Carlyne Cerf de Dudzeele, by unforeseen circumstances. Bercu was initially wearing a full Christian Lacroix suit comprising the beaded jacket (which Wintour described as 'all very 'Like a Prayer'') and a skirt, but the latter didn't fit properly.
'(Bercu) had been on vacation back home in Israel and had gained a little weight,' Wintour recounted in the 2012 Vogue feature, before qualifying: 'Not that that mattered. In fact, it only served to reinforce the idea to take couture's haughty grandeur and playfully throw it headlong into real life and see what happened.'
Wintour has since recalled that the magazine's printers were so surprised by the front cover that they called to see whether it had been sent in error. The veteran editor also played down the intention behind the image, though she surely knew, better than most, that magazines are judged by their covers.
'Afterwards, in the way that these things can happen, people applied all sorts of interpretations: It was about mixing high and low, Michaela was pregnant, it was a religious statement. But none of these things was true,' she said. 'I had just looked at that picture and sensed the winds of change. And you can't ask for more from a cover image than that.'
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The sweeping, soul-consuming kind I had always dreamed of. The kind that felt like coming home. Read more: L.A. Affairs: After my marriage fell apart, darkness got to me. Then I was catfished Then I moved into an actors' house in Los Feliz — a beautiful kind of chaos only L.A. could produce. Four roommates, each chasing a different dream, all of us messy, creative and trying to make something of ourselves. One of them had just arrived from Australia. I still remember the first time I saw him — tall, sun-kissed skin, dark golden curls, movie-star smile and a voice that made everything sound like a love song. Even 'pass the almond milk' felt flirtatious coming from him. He had that magnetic energy — the kind that makes you turn your head in a crowded room without even knowing why. He was already well-known back home, but here he was starting from scratch. That vulnerability, mixed with his charm, made him impossible not to notice. I didn't just notice. 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I tried to process it, but I wasn't angry — not yet. Just stunned. Numb. I nodded, said something like, 'Thanks for telling me,' and excused myself to my room. But then the nights started to change. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But after that conversation, the energy in the house shifted. Almost every night, I'd hear new voices. Laughter. Sometimes flirtatious whispers in the hallway. One night, I passed a girl in the kitchen making toast at 1 a.m. in his hoodie. She smiled politely. I didn't ask questions. It became a pattern. A different girl, almost every night. He'd meet them on Raya or Tinder. Beautiful, charismatic women, most of them aspiring actors or models. I never heard him brag about it. He wasn't showy. But it was unmistakable — he was spiraling into something. And I couldn't stop watching. Part of me was devastated, even though I had no claim to him. I'd been imagining a future. I had started to believe he was my soulmate. But this wasn't what soulmates did. Soulmates didn't treat people like rotating doors. Eventually, during one of our rare quiet nights alone, I brought it up. 'Hey,' I said gently. 'Are you OK?' He paused, staring at his hands. Then, with surprising openness, he admitted, 'I think I have a problem.' He explained that sex was like a compulsion for him. That he'd been using it to cope with anxiety, loneliness, the chaos of this city. That it made him feel better — for a moment. But never for long. He looked up at me, eyes raw. 'I'm trying to get a handle on it,' he said. 'But it's hard.' I sat beside him, silent. Not judging. Just listening. Read more: L.A. Affairs: I grew up on Disney princesses and fairy tales. Was I ready for my own happily ever after? He wasn't cruel. Just deeply lost. One of the many people in this city chasing something they couldn't quite name. He wanted to be loved, just like me. He just didn't know how to be safe with it. I was relieved we hadn't crossed that line. That I'd kept one piece of myself intact. But it also marked something final. The moment I stopped seriously considering dating a man in Los Angeles. I still love this city. I still take the same walks. Still linger in cafes, hoping for something soft and sincere to cut through the noise. But I don't fall for fantasies anymore, especially not the kind wrapped in accents and charisma. The charming, sex-addicted Australian man? He's still one of my closest friends. We never kissed. We never even talked about it much. Experiencing romance is without a doubt one of the finer things in life, but it's not always the most fulfilling. Soulmates show up in many forms, and sometimes the realest love one will experience is with a dog or a family member or a platonic friend and that's OK. All love is great love. The author is an actor and writer living in Los Angeles. She grew up in the city, still believes in love (sometimes) and takes too many long walks through Silver Lake and Los Feliz. L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@ You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here. Sign up for The Wild newsletter to get weekly insider tips on the best of our beaches, trails, parks, deserts, forests and mountains. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
