V99: A Letter from the Editor

V99: A Letter from the Editor

Mother Monster on the thought process behind her record breaking 16 covers

Mother Monster on the thought process behind her record breaking 16 covers

Text: Lady Gaga

There is something about fashion that is crucial to my existence. Not only by definition significant, essential to my happiness, necessary, yes—but more definitively, fashion is the cross hanging in my church. It is the anchor in my artistic place of worship.

When I first thought of what to write to you, I conjured a vision of my friends as the fashion guard. All of the people who have influenced not only me but the world, for decades and generations. I wanted to line them up in all their glory. This issue would be the royal academy of fashion where I would use V Magazine as a proper love letter to the fashion and art community.

But I cannot abide this concept for the issue because it would leave out too many significant, legendary people that have yet to grace V’s covers. I have not yet even begun to dig into my relationship with Donatella and Allegra Versace and Nicola Formichetti, my collaborations with Hussein Chalayan and Alaïa, the inside of my earliest days as a young girl adoring Marc Jacobs, the rainbow of young designers for whom I have troves of “I knew them when” stories, my funny Anna Wintour encounters, or the secrets I know of the many places I’ve been—nothing juicy or gossipy (well, some  are, actually). I only really begin to scratch the surface of what I know with this issue.

So what I had to find within myself was something much bigger than a concept for a single issue. I drove deep into the forest of my heart for the concept of every issue. The manifesto. The place of worship. I wish it to explode the conversation of fashion with the most mind-blowing and controversial approaches: fashion and imagery that aims to sell nothing, a playground for all the greats to flock and break rules, a place where we can feel free to leave the politics of fashion behind.

Between Aunt Anna and Uncle Karl I hid, just like I did behind the couch of my own parents, mouthing to my gay manager, with oh-em-gee wide eyes, Is Karl wearing Saint Laurent? (He was responding in sign language that involved a martini and his cellphone, while taking this picture.)

Between Aunt Anna and Uncle Karl I hid, just like I did behind the couch of my own parents, mouthing to my gay manager, with oh-em-gee wide eyes, Is Karl wearing Saint Laurent? (He was responding in sign language that involved a martini and his cellphone, while taking this picture.)

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