This is our second link to New York magazine in two days, but it’s only because they’re so great. We love Helen Mirren only slightly less than Tilda Swinton: oh, to have so much moxie and etre une femme d’un certain age.

We almost didn’t put this photo up because—ugh, the politics of the sexual objectification of women. We guess that if we have to see any woman sexually objectified, it’s Helen Mirren—rather than a Kardashian, or a Hilton, or even a Snooki. We’re not sure we’d call that a victory, but it feels like something. And we love that Juergen Teller continues to showcase the aesthetic value of all sorts of women—not just the reality-star spawn listed above.

See the rest of the pictures here.

Honestly: It’s better than LOL cats. It’s New York magazine’s Twenty Most Ridiculous Looks from the menswear collections, and it is just one reason, in a list of millions, why we’d do anything, go anywhere, vomit blood or milk cows, to write for New York magazine. Though they can probably do better than a writer who uses “vomit blood” as a metric for measuring enthusiasm.

Jesus! We interviewed Drew Barrymore once, and she was super nice, and we just hope to God for her sake that she is completely, 100% over Fabrizio Moretti—because this portfolio of photos with him and his girlfriend, Binki Shapiro, would make anyone who wasn’t completely insane.

The sweater she’s wearing is Sportmax and apparently costs $575, and we love it.

Photos by Serge Leblon—so much more lovelier than the Vogue story with Karen Elson and Jack White, speaking of music super-couples.

While we’re way too puritanical to get completely behind her living situation (though really, in some ways it does seem like a family-friendly solution to a divorce \ mid-life crisis) we love Tilda Swinton, and that she so genuinely (almost) 50 and foxy. Nothing (except pie) makes us happier than when fashion houses team up with non-14-year-olds in an amazing way, and this definitely counts. Yay, London Fashion Week!

At least in the U.K. We went to the lengths of pretending to be a serious fashion journalist at Harvey Nichol’s on Friday, after we heard that they were going to debut the issue there—and then at 3 p.m.—and then not at all, so we returned to New York empty handed (except for the other seven magazines in our bag.) Anyway: We salute the debut issue, with this image from it, of Agyness as the Queen.

Not sure we [ahem] love the logo font—isn’t it a little, like, private-jet trade journal or something?—but we do love the Ditto, and we can’t wait to try to track this down tomorrow at Doer Street Market.

We still have yet to buy a copy of Vogue in…er, this millennium (socialites! we! do! not! care!), but Michelle Obama, yay! We wish the surroundings were a little Ethan Allen, but we do love her in the purple.

At least in the magazines we really liked category. Domino, RIP: We truly loved you!

We love magazines. This admission comes as no surprise to anyone who knows us well. We actually managed to crack a brick wall in an old apartment – we had a shelf above our couch to keep our magazines out from under foot. From time to time, we’d throw out the old, add new.

Well, lo and behold, one day, we looked up – and there was a foot long crack, spidering out from the shelf. The weight of our magazines had cracked the brick, the drywall, and the plaster on our walls. We promptly took them down, spackled it up and moved. We did not move the magazines with us.

We rarely throw out back issues – who knows when you might need to reference something? And some magazines cost so much that you may as well throw a $10 bill down the drain (British Vogue,  we’re looking at you here). We’ve tried to cut down on how many we get a month, subscriptions have lapsed, but we still get giddy when we get new ones.

A family member told us today about maghound.com; telling us, ‘It’s like Netflix for magazines’. We checked it out immediately, and then became confused. Do we have to return them at the end of the month? How can we possibly have all these magazines for $5 a month? It seems too good to be true. We called family member back, and as soon as she stopped laughing at us, she assured they magazines are yours to keep! Amazing! Or, we’re just really dumb. Either way.

Here’s the deal. For a set price a month, you get a set number of magazines a month. For $5, you get 3 titles, for $7 you get 5, and so on. You’re not locked into a year subscription – so you can hop from title to title as you wish. And, you get to keep them. For your basic fashion titles, this doesn’t make sense – you can get Marie Claire for $8 a year. But for more expensive titles, like Real Simple, Martha Stewart Living, Dwell, etc – it ends up being a pretty decent deal.

We’re starting with Popular Photography, Real Simple, Saveur, NY Magazine and Outside – we’ll report back after we get our first issue(s). It’s amazing!

If anyone else decides to give it a shot, let us know what you get! We love to know what others are reading!

-LB

We thought, given the subject matter, that it would be reasonable to break into our normal coverage for our first-ever Sundance review on this site: “The September Issue,” or, as we suggested to our Sundance roommate when we left the screening room, “The Devil Bares Nada.” (Ba-dum-dum!) It is the story of the making of Vogue’s titular September 2007 issue (the biggest-ever issue of a single-month consumer magazine, etc etc) and how Anna Wintour actually is mean in real life like she was in the Anne Hathaway movie.

Meaner: She does, in fact, actually tell one person (the innocent cameraman, drafted into service during a shoot) he’s too fat and that he should go to the gym. Also, Sienna Miller’s hair is “lackluster” and her toothy smile not up to Vogue standards. (“And I think these are fillings?”) AW basically comes across as a repressed control freak whose overachieving family (including lawyer-to-be daughter Bee) thinks she’s useless. The entire process would be heartbreaking if it weren’t so often ridiculous, like when ALT shows up to play tennis with Louis Vuitton luggage in tow, or when stylist\model\editor Grace Coddington (easily the film’s most likable presence) makes her salad the object of her displaced rage after some of her images are cut, murdering leafy greens with a heretofore-unseen lettuce-murdering vigor.

It’s a great documentary, in sense that you’re constantly like, How did they get that access? We have no idea why Wintour would be up for this, and the timing seems particularly bad, given the rumors that she’ll soon be pushed out for Carine or sent to France on an ambassadorship. It’s a little TMI, like when Wintour shows some total Roger Federer mentionitis. (“Did you see Roger won?”) The access is amazing: Karl Lagerfeld, Mario Testino, Oscar de la Renta, Stefano Pilati, Vera Wang, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Thakoon all make appearances.

We didn’t leave the screening understanding why AW went through all the hassle of being an editor, beyond her story about her father telling her to declare her interest in being the editor of Vogue when faced with filling out a questionnaire about her future. But for anyone who loves looking at pretty things, and is curious about the way the magazine comes together—and NB we work at a magazine, and we’re still curious about it—we really wouldn’t miss it.