Last weekend while I was watching the President’s Cup golf match and writing, somehow a Google search turned up the black and white video for Madonna’s 1990 hit song “Vogue.” I watched it. Then I watched it again. Then another three times.
I’d forgotten what a massive pop sensation it was 35 years ago. But once I started watching, I quickly remembered how awesome I thought the choreography and videography was in it. The actors were doing more than dancing in the video; they were conspicuously posing. Even without color, they all projected an unmistakable cool.
About an hour later, my Dad called. He was about to go to this big black tie wedding. A real to-do. But he said he wasn’t going to wear black like everyone else. Not exactly:
“I’ve got a purple tux! I just bought it! It’s, it’s — you gotta see it. Suzana is worried I’m gonna embarrass her. I’ve got her all worked up!”
I’m not a huge Madonna fan. But obviously she’s written plenty of catchy hits. Easily relatable. That’s why she’s a pop icon. And as I pictured what kind of jacket my dad was gonna wear to that night’s nuptials, it occurred to me — this guy was getting ready to “Vogue!”
Dad’s jacket wasn’t “purple,” per se. It was more of a dark ultra violet pattern set against the black (yes, I had to look at a color wheel for that specific). And when I saw the photo of him, I wanted the jacket for myself. It was a hit, of course. Not just because it was a cool tux, but because he wore it almost brazenly. “Black tie”? Screw that homogeneous nonsense. Dad’s friend Johnny, the father of the bride — and a different kind of cat to begin with — loved it. Which is of course what mattered most.
A day later, as I was hunting for an old autographed sports photo to give to a friend’s nephew, I found some old family pics that my mom had given me not long ago. And as I looked through them, I found the ones of her modeling for my dad’s warm-up suit company in the late 70s. My mother — vogueing!
Mom told me that her mother was a gorgeous and elegant woman who often dressed in beautiful gowns in order to make an entrance with my grandfather. My Grandma Ruthie died while I was very young, so I didn’t get much time with her. But Mom said that she was totally inspired by her mother:
“She made sure I had a fashionable wardrobe and taught me how to dress. I grew up loving clothes and wanted to be a model.”
As I dug a little deeper into the old photos, another vogue jackpot: Grandma Ruthie pictured in a stylish gown in the Palm Springs Desert Sun newspaper — next to Hollywood icon Gregory Peck! It was 1966, and they were attending the third annual ball to benefit the American Cancer Society, honoring Bob Hope and the “States of the Union.”
I must have noticed some of this dramatic flair growing up; maybe a little bit rubbed off. It might surprise some of my newer friends, but when I used to report live on television, I definitely did the peacock thing. If I even saw a tie knot on a TV anchor without a clear dimple in it — my friends would hear about it (they still text me). Even one news director who hired me started wearing French cuffs: “Hey, I like how those things look on you!”
The guys I play golf with will definitely give me a razzing for watching that Madonna video (repeatedly) while we were texting about the President’s Cup. But those same fellas try to look good on the golf course. From the scratch handicaps to the 22’s, they’re all angling on the fashion front. Color coordinated. Quietly proud of their clean new kicks. The message on the golf cap matters. Even our head covers say something (mine banner the ASU Sun Devils).
One of my favorite examples of the golf-vogue comes from one of my closest friends, Aaron Oberman — because he owns it completely. This guy was a star hockey player. He’s 6’2” and still built like a truck. But the golf shorts he sports? In a word, flamboyant. I’m talking bright pastels, seagull patterns, rainbow shit. This modest, talk-less and listen-more type of guy is in your face with his style. He’s voguing on every tee box — with the game to back it up.
But here’s the thing: You don’t have to look “good” to vogue it up. As Madonna says in her song: “Beauty’s where you find it.” Hey, she used to date Dennis Rodman. Plenty of street cred there. And boy, did that guy know how to pose.
The word “poser” is often used as a pejorative — when someone is looking for attention in a really superficial way. I use the term myself. But it’s really a pretty subjective thing. So much about attitude. When it comes down to it, the only negative type of poser is one who refuses to acknowledge that they’re posing in the first place: It’s inauthentic.
That’s the beauty of the song and the video: the whole point is to own the fact that you’re trying to look awesome. Cool. Interesting. Distinctive. Whatever. The effort is right there in the act. Hide from it, and you’re the wrong kind of poser.
Ten years ago, I bought an Uncle Sam costume and had my friend Jimmy Fishbein photograph me all over town to promote my first book, Unlock Congress. I mean, we shot pics in Target, on a basketball court, a public escalator, a golf course, in front of the Halloween decorations at a stranger’s house… I don’t know what the hell I was thinking…
Oh, yes I do. And I’d do it again.
Strike a pose.
