Why the Frickety Frack Isn't Melania on the Cover of Vogue?

All right we know why, but dang.

I watched the Melania documentary while doing five other things, my propaganda-sorting ear tuned to the proceedings, and increasingly became fascinated by first, the sheer abundance of gold, and second the extreme discipline she demonstrated in every breath and step.

The thing that absorbed me first was her relationship with Herve Leger, her couturier, in the old sense of the word. Leger was at Dior, then came to the States to design Oscar de la Renta, so glamour in the old style. Leger says at one point that some women when presented with dressing for billions are all wawawawa, whining and plucking at the fabric. Melania says we need a quarter inch here, an eighth there, tighter here, and stands like a soldier in front of the mirror no flinching. All through the 20 days of her life pre-Inauguration she refines and refines that coat, the lapels slightly bigger, the shirt front sharper, the back of the shirt an inch higher, the costume of a Mother Superior. Who is armed.

Then the hat. No seam on the top, no lip - just flat, like a knife, she requests. And the white band? Narrower. Right up until the moment before she walked into the Capitol, Leger was clipping at the hat to her specification.

I have never seen a woman in power dressed like that. There was zero give, zero sentiment, no prettification, no bow to girl power, weakness, feminism. The only emotion communicated was I support him. We - Baron and I - are his Palace Guard. You come at him through me, through us. And, by the way, I am righteously angry.

As would any woman, any wife be, having watched her husband’s ceaseless persecution. And perhaps that's why the furies reject her. She does not project weakness. And globalists need women weak so they can be manipulated, sent here, sent there, out on the streets, this outrage that outrage, so that no one has peace. The Left needs women weak, complaining like Michelle Obama, whining that the eight years in the White House, she wasn’t her real self, she wasn’t that person, it was so hard to be judged all the time. As if she hadn’t had the greatest honour the world has to give. Over and over again she told us how being First Lady of the United States sucked. How relieved she was that it was over.

Then, Jill Biden looking like a harried nurse with a lush clothing alliance, no time to go to the gym or take care of herself, bloated from Ambien and Ativan and aging so fast: she was decomposing in front of our eyes. Living a lie will do that. It was painful. Hillary - her lust for power and money written across her body like curses, like Sigils.

Melania is a much needed reset.

Look at this woman. Her name is Carine Roitfeld. She is thought to be the premier stylist in the world, French; famous in certain quarters. She was, as she recounts, visiting her children in London at Christmas and, at a cafe, a little girl approached her to say she had beautiful eyes. Then she returned to her parents and siblings. Five minutes later, the little girl shyly slid a 20 pound note into the sleeve of Carine’s coat.

Why? Carine looked homeless, despite wearing a $7500 Margiela coat designed by John Galliano, her “biggest purchase of the year”. She was wearing ripped and distressed jeans, those too costing Lord knows what; $2,000?

That’s us, that’s modern western women. Disheveled, cosplaying poor and harried, while luxuriating in abundance and freedom. It has solidified into a trend: the frazzled English woman aesthetic. There are two reasons for this. Feminism has doubled our workload, we are harried, the work is never done, and the culture is always cracking the whip so that we do more. Obama on her book tour was all about becoming, more and more and more, your precious self being everything, expressing it, everything.

It is hard to be everything. Even our houses are filled with clutter and clobber and projects. The floor of my study? Draw the veil.

Second, we are constantly tired and whiny because everything hurts. Because we are exhausted. And because we feel so bad, we take up the cause of the weakest people we can find, because that’s how we think of ourselves. That, weirdly gives us energy. Because we want it to stop. We want the demands to stop. We want to live peaceful loving lives, not crack the whip, charging on till we die in harness. Screaming on the streets harms the powerful men we think set us on that course. And, of course, did. Gloria Steinem will be remembered as a CIA operative, not a noble fighter for women’s rights. Feminism is the Fabians most treasured poison, and Fabianism was instituted formally to control us, to make us weak and narcissistic. To stop us from wanting children and families because population explosion and climate change.

Melania is not exhausted. She is in control. She has boundaries. Her nervous system is regulated. She is an immigrant who had to conform in order to fit in. She doesn’t have time to be “exhausted”, to be hysterical. She has chosen the International Style, which is Trump-style, disciplined to the max, luxurious. Aesthetics were her business, in school, in her one year of university, as a model. Architecture, design. Then she decided to move to Milan, and take her work as a model seriously. Endlessly restricted in Soviet Slovenia, she burst out with her greatest asset, herself.

In the 90’s on Park Avenue, women complained that gorgeous Slavs were scooping up all the good men. One hates to stereotype, but if you have a Slav wife, you have a champion, a coach, and if necessary, a Marine sergeant in the house. Rather than a harridan endlessly agressing you, demanding tribute to her precious self.

Trump, by the way, seems besotted. And someone like that would only be besotted if she had major utility in his life. He inserts her into every speech, brings her forward on the stage, walks her to her car door, compliments her over and over again. There was an amusing trick or game she ran on her traitorous staff in the first term, that he was always trying to have sex with her, pulling her into corners, complaining that she couldn’t get away from him.

That new editor of Vogue who has the archetypical frazzled Englishwoman locked in, Chloe Malle, the daughter of two very very famous artistes, should recognize Melania for who and what she represents. “Immigrants”, the dispossessed, the desperate, do not want to be frazzled Englishwomen out of control, prone to hysteria. They want to be ascendant, controlled, and familied like Melania.

I bet she’s shy and I bet she’s fun. She lived the life the frazzled Englishwoman campaigns for, and she hated it enough to flee, to discipline herself into what has to be a stupendous life. Perhaps that’s her contribution. She’s saying: No. Just no. Your decadent depraved dream cannot happen. No woman in the world wants to be you, to be this awful thing.

It stops with me. I am the future.

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Elizabeth Nickson was trained as a reporter at the London bureau of Time Magazine. She became European Bureau Chief of LIFE magazine in its last years of monthly publication, and during that time, acquired the rights to Nelson Mandela’s memoir before he was released from Robben Island, which meant he wasn’t owned by the Communist Party of SA. She went on to write for Harper’s Magazine, the Guardian, the Observer, the Independent, the Sunday Telegraph, the Sunday Times Magazine, the Telegraph, the Globe and Mail and the National Post.