Heavy Hangs the Head
The Catherine the Great and Cleopatra of newsletters critiques the first batch of fall fashion covers. Also: surrogacy thrillers, photogenic book editors, and a Yesteryear verdict.
Welcome to Spreadlandia, where two veteran editors read it ALL to winnow out only the best: juicy yarns, big ideas, deeply personal essays, and hot goss—aka, the full Spread. Plus: original interviews, podcasts, and more. Come hungry!
Treasured Spreaders,
If you’ve seen the cover of Elle’s September issue, you know that Emily Charlton is certainly taking a victory lap: Yes, in her final magic trick at Dior before being banished to Coach, everyone’s favorite PR high priestess somehow landed the fashion house’s name—in the form of a gold crown, haloing a naked Rihanna—slapdab across the magazine’s logo. It’s the most egregious example of advertiser jockeying we’ve seen maybe…ever? (Though 2024’s GQ cover-slash-commercial for Beyonce’s whiskey brand, SirDavis—a joint venture with Moët Hennessy, mmmhmm—was a real, uh, trailblazer of the genre.) Perhaps in a post-Devil Wears Prada 2 world, with the industry’s cards splayed on the Milo Baughman dining table, the thinking was…what do we have to lose? Depressing as this corporate back-scratching feels, even more surprising was the accompanying cover essay (Rihanna doesn’t do interviews) about the pop star, penned by the National Book Foundation’s 2025 Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community awardee, Roxane Gay. Gay really understands the assignment here, arguing that the fact that Dior created a new fragrance, J’adore Intense (“honoring women for ‘daring to luxuriate unreservedly in pleasure’”) just for RiRi is no small thing: “In 2015, she became the first Black ambassador for the brand. And in this cover shoot, you can practically smell Rihanna through the page, especially in the raw, undone images where her hair hangs in loose curls past her shoulders, she stares at the camera, inviting the viewer closer, but not too close.” We look forward to reading about this assignment in Bad Feminist 2. Also, did we mention that Rihanna looks incredible?
Meanwhile, Vogue’s September issue announces what’s in for fall, and—drumroll, please—it’s… unabashed nepotism FTW! The Shards stars Kaia Gerber, daughter of Cindy Crawford, and Homer Gere, son of Crawford’s first husband, Richard Gere (wait, is that what once-removed means?), skippin’ to my lou in Chanel. We’ll concede: They’re great to look at, and Kaia was pretty good in the 2023 comedy Bottoms. In something of a jinx moment, the Hollywood Reporter happened to publish a good hard look at industry royalty this week. According to recent findings from a film industry data analyst, 70 percent of this century’s top films involved a “nepo baby creative” in a principal function (writer, director, or one of the top three actors in the film). And now we know that when Rachel wasn’t called back from her Real World audition in 2002, it wasn’t for lack of charisma or talent—it was a bloodline thing!
Happy International Lefthanders Day!
Rachel & Maggie
P.S. Kudos to the Atlantic for hiring Spread-beloved writer Danyel Smith—she of the P. Diddy piece we mention often around here—away from the New York Times Magazine. Can’t wait to see what you come up with over there, Danyel!
P.P.S. Yes, we are all caught up on Furious and it sure is nice to have a weekly show to anticipate—especially a Liz Meriwether-created complex crimefest starring Emmy Rossum as the law enforcement and Lola Petticrew (Say Nothing) as a serial killer! We liked Roxana Hadadi’s review. Or, for those only-speak-Rotten-Tomatoes people: a) are you sure you’re in the right place? b) you’ve got a 98 percenter here!
Because we were out last week—one of your Spreaditors enforcing the Vacation Code of Conduct, the other haunted by a salmonella poisoning in the house—we offer you a game of catch-up:
The Final Word on Yesteryear? In a New Yorker Q&A with Rachel Syme, debut novelist and lightning rod of the summer Caro Claire Burke answers almost all of our lingering questions surrounding Yesteryear, most crucially what Anne Hathaway’s1 role was in the writing of the actual novel. (We say almost because no one will explain to us what Burke is trying to say by giving Natalie an earth-shaking orgasm once she submits to Old Caleb in “1855.”)
Kids These Days: In the New York Times Magazine, Spread pal Lizzy Goodman delivers the profile we didn’t realize we urgently needed: Shania Freakin’ Twain, who at 60 has become a Gen Z icon. We haven’t had this much fun with a magazine article all summer. Less fun: In “The Horrible Rise of the Makeout Police,” Faith Hill connects the latest installment in public-shaming videos involving PDA to young people’s reaction to constant surveillance: Avoid cringe at all costs. Go ahead and smooch with abandon at that concert, she advises.
