Newsflash: Not everybody in Italian Vogue’s Black Issue is black. I sincerely — naively? — thought I wasn’t going to see a single white face in the entire book. But of course there are party pages, cultural coverage and the ads. And in all those images, all the people — the models, the editors, the execs, the socialites — are white. Seeing so much white while paging through the Black Issue makes plain how little color exists on most days. The stark contrast, taken together with the gorgeousness of the all-black feature well, makes one hell of a case for affirmative-
action model castings.

Anna, Kim, Glenda, Robbie: The time for black is now. Snap!

Welcome, kids, to the cold reality of magazine ambition. If you thought landing that assistant gig at Conde Nast also scored you a jetset Jitney life, well, ha! If, as Cindi Leive reveals in Sunday Styles’ “No More Summer Fridays” story, she hasn’t had a Fourth of July since 1992, ain’t no way you’re ever making Friday happy hour at Cyril’s. My advice is to climb the ranks quickly, while the 80-year-old Si Newhouse is still in charge. As portrayed in Richard Perez-Pena’s Sunday Business profile, Mr. Newhouse is a glamour-smitten budget agnostic who grants five-figure clothing allowances to top peeps. Retail therapy is super-helpful when you’re poring over page proofs at 4TS on a Friday night. As for all those Missoni bathing suits and beach cover-ups you’ll be able to afford as a Si Favorite, there’s always Tulum at Christmas, hotcakes.

Poor Kate Moss! Sitting for the cover of American Vogue these days apparently requires the insertion of a large stick in the tush. Or at least looking like you’ve got a large stick in your tush. How else to explain the grimacing, flared-nostril discomfort of our generation’s most versatile model?