Can somebody please explain how Brad Pitt’s photos of Angelina Jolie qualify as “private,” when they are published in a national magazine like W? Um, also? How “exclusive” could the Bradvertorial be, when W has basically annointed itself the Vanity Fair of the Kennedys? Because I can’t think of anybody else who would devote 34 pages to grainy fish-face shots.

For a lesson in how to sell trendy hideousness to a gullible audience, one need look no further than Prada’s gorgeous fall campaign. Linda Evangelista looks positively luminous as a demure Sicilian widow and as a total pro, she is selling the hell out of dated-next-season lace and a lumpy old handbag. For every piece of Prada rung up this fall, she should get a huge cut. Because without La Linda, the sham of these clothes would be obvious to everyone.

Shame on me for forgetting Keith Haring’s era-defining exuberance! This arresting portrait, from the forthcoming “Annie Leibovitz at Work” — before the Vanity Fair photog got all celebrity-groupings dullsville — shows the politically perfomative painter at his hardcore, adorable, tragic best. Who else could make AIDS and crack look so slammin’?