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Over his 30-year career at Condé Nast, Nicholas Coleridge has witnessed it all. From the anxieties of the Princess of Wales to the blazing fury of Mohamed Al-Fayed, his story is also the story of the people who populate the glamorous world of glossy magazines. With relish and astonishing candour, he offers the inside scoop on Tina Brown and Anna Wintour, David Bowie and Philip Green, Kate Moss and Beyonce and a surreal weekend away with Bob Geldof and William Hague.
The Glossy Years also provides perceptive insight into the changing and treacherous worlds of fashion, journalism, museums and a whole sweep of British society. This is a rich, honest, witty and very personal memoir of a life splendidly lived.
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A superfun inside look @ world of magazine editors
The story was great and I want to learn more about the characters. My only gripe is in re the audible version. There are several flaws in the recording. One where several pages are actually repeated in the recording,, one where you can hear the author actually correct himself and repeat the lines he has just read, and several areas were words are clipped off and you don't catch the whole word, or where you miss words because the recording skips like a scratched vinyl record.
1 person found this helpful
- Jenny Jenkins
A Glossy Life Well Lived — and Read Well
For Anglophiles only, this memoir is best for those who can answer YES to these questions:
1. Did you know who Tina Brown was before she became editor of Vanity Fair?
2. Can you identify the Cotswolds on a map?
3. Would you expect an Etonian to remain friends with his fellow old boys all through his life and to contrast these with the “fancy people” he has met through work in the upper echelons of Condé Nast?
4. Were you young in the 80s and middle aged by the 21st century?
If so, this charmingly read memoir of a charmed life is for you. Diverting, gossipy in positive ways (no cheap or nasty shots taken) of an incredibly extroverted media figure.
Coleridge once tells the story of being on a glamping trip in Ethiopia with his family when they decide to head for a remote night club. His jeep plunges down a cliff and lands on a shepherd’s hut. He and his wife — well into middle age— clamber up the cliff and proceed to the club. That is your narrator. No party or club he won’t attend and here he is to tell you all about it, charmingly and with a light touch and very pleasant cadence.
This book kept me company as I finished painting the porch of my house. Part of me critiqued the white male upper class privilege that fueled his “luck.” And I also admired his verve and hard work. As was often the case, his charm usually lulled my inner social critic and I ended up mentally gliding along, drinking in Coleridge’s life story vicariously as I labored.