Cheryl Cole graces the cover of the February 2009 edition of Vogue. Ah, but a mere seven years* ago she was a nobody; six years* ago she was a pop nobody; five years* ago she was a toilet attendant-attacking nobody, and now she’s really someone! (*All timings in this sentence approximate, I don’t follow pop careers that closely.)
Our lass has stormed the pop charts! Turned herself into a foxy, yet stylish, lady! Worn really funky, bright pink lipstick! Copied my look of leopard-print top and wet look leggings! (TRUE. It is MY look. I did it first. She copied ME.) Breathed new life in The X Factor! Forgiven a lying, cheating, scumbag of a husband!
So, it’s really no surprise that she’s got herself on the cover of Vogue. Except they’ve decided to Vogue-ify her, stripping her of her perky sexiness, and instead made her into some very bland model-type thing. Sure, there’s worse things they could have depicted her as, it’s not like they’ve superimposed her ugly husband’s face onto hers, but it just seems a bit cold and…meh. I suppose that’s Vogue’s “look” though, eh?
- Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it
(Not to mention – the fact that her facial features appear ever so slightly too big).
P.S. How much does it sound like I fancy Cheryl? I don’t, I just think she’s pretty and stylish.
P.P.S. I mean, I am female. And straight.
P.P.P.S. Then again, it’s the 21st century…so it’s all good…