Plum Sykes, socialite editor and novelist, entertains Josh Spero with stories of Bergdorf Blondes and American Vogue
Considered from afar, Plum Sykes is an imposing figure: a popular novelist, a contributing editor at American Vogue, a history graduate from Oxford, all wrapped in a glamorous and fashionable lifestyle. In person, however, she wears this clothing with grace and charm, as I discover over lunch with her one day in South Kensington; her unforced friendliness soothes my nerves. The type of woman who possesses both striking success and style often accessorises them with hauteur, but this is not Sykes.
Asked by her old tutor at Worcester to give his students advice on how best to pursue a career in the media, Sykes is coming to Oxford to talk at the Union on the evening of Wednesday 27 April. In the same week her first novel, Bergdorf Blondes, is released in paperback, so when we meet both topics come up.
Bergdorf Blondes is far more than its “veneer of extreme silliness” (in Sykes-speak), and although I approached it with low expectations, the satire brilliantly confounded me. It is acute, but not bitchy. Sykes disagrees with my choice of the word ‘satire’ for this tale of Park Avenue princesses and their quests for PJs (private jets) and ATMs (rich boyfriends): “I always picture a satire as political and something with which you really attack something, but I think of [Bergdorf Blondes] more as a social comedy, I suppose. I was going more for social comedy in the vein of those 1940s movies like The Philadelphia Story.”
Terminology aside, there is certainly sharp rebuke for the superficial world of New York heiresses, albeit clothed in the faux naivety of the narrator, identified only as Moi. If calling a character Moi seems precious, it is only a diversionary tactic: she is sharper than she lets on, making penetrating remarks under the shadow of shallowness. Part of the reason this book is trumpeted as printed Sex and the City and was dismissed by many critics is because Sykes employs a great deal of subtlety in her prose, covered by a layer of brashness and fashion which proves distracting.
‘Moi’ also implies a level of autobiographical involvement. I ask Sykes, how much of ‘Moi’, is ‘Me’? “That’s not my life – I’m writing about a group of very, very elite, privileged New York girls. Now I discovered that because at American Vogue I was always reporting on them so I got that inside view. That wasn’t me living it, but I was very much party to it.” This is true of much of her work for Vogue, and proved by the fact that, the day after our interview, Sykes is flying to Paris for three days to write about bras. However, she is anything but complacent, “Believe me, I know I’m really lucky in the sense that the job has glamorous moments but if you’re being a journalist you’re always remembering, ‘Well it’s not actually for me.’ I’m not going to wear these handmade $900 bras – I wish I was. I’m just writing.”
The outrageous nature of many lines and scenes in Bergdorf Blondes makes me wonder what could have provided inspiration. Much is drawn from life. “I think a lot of the best lines in the book, I couldn’t have made up because they’re too good. I interviewed so many heiresses and stuff so I had loads of material I hadn’t used in my articles. I was sitting next to [a Bergdorf Blonde-type] at the MTV awards or something, and she said, ‘You know, Plum, I’m such a New York grooming addict that my nails actually ache if they’re not manicured.’ And so I put that in the book. I’m not clever enough to invent aching nails.”
Surely, then, drawing so heavily on real women, Sykes must have upset those she parodies (however affectionately)? “Do you know what’s really weird? All the girls, all those Palm Beach heiresses, were reading it by the pool, laughing, and they think it’s very flattering to be called Bergdorf Blondes because they think, ‘Oh we’re funny and we’re glamorous.’ They can see the funny side and they feel flattered.” But if they were flattered, I would have thought they wouldn’t have realised the satirical subtext of the book. “The thing is, when these girls in real life say this, they know that they’re dumb, they know it’s all a performance, so they’re all in on the joke that they’re a joke in Bergdorf Blondes.
“They’re meant to be the conflicted modern girl: glamorous, silly, intelligent, smart, shoe-obsessed, and I’ve always had this thing in my life where people think because I’m glamorous I couldn’t possibly be intelligent, particularly in New York. The city is full of really glamorous, really intelligent women who will play up to their silly side because they know it’s funny and they’re living for the performance. The Julie Bergdorf character is very true to an heiress who’s performing, hamming it up. So it’s meant to be quite real.”
There are, however, some appallingly obtuse, self-unaware characters, like Moi’s friend Jolene. “Oh Jolene’s just really dumb. Julie and Moi are the smart funny ones but the rest of them – the Greek chorus – are completely stupid. You can’t have a comedy full of smart people, it doesn’t work.”
Sykes may be far away from the air-headed characters she writes about, but Moi’s circumstances bear suspicious likeness to Sykes’: they are both writers at top fashion magazines, both had unsuccessful engagements to photographers, and the quick intelligence of bothis often overlooked. The English press are Sykes’ bete noire for this reason and others: “They can’t understand how a serious person could write a silly book.”
Sykes’ most public, bruising runin with the press came in The Daily Telegraph under the headline ‘Bergdorf Bitch’. She shows no signs of this viciousness at our lunch, so where did it come from?
“Well I was a bit stupid. [The interviewer] showed up and started asking me all these confusing questions and in the end I said, ‘Have you actually read the book?’ Eventually she admitted she hadn’t. So I very stupidly said, ‘You’re unprofessional,’ and I’m afraid it went downhill from there. But I learnt my lesson, which is, unfortunately, that with the English press you have to lie.” However the conversation we have and the opinions Sykes proffers mean I am willing to believe that she is making an exception in my case. Perhaps this is part of her magic.
Later, we talk about how Sykes started in the media. Coming from Oxford, she was lucky to be taken on at British Vogue as an intern, which translated into a full-time job. “I was virtually sweeping the floor of the fashion closet at Vogue.”
In 1995 Sykes quit British Vogue for its American sister, where she rose to assistant editor. However, she stepped down in 2002 to become contributing editor, which requires her to submit occasional pieces. This transatlantic move was not popular, as the sisters are also rivals: “I got stolen. You can’t really move between the two without actually quitting one and moving to the other. They’re very competitive – they [British Vogue] absolutely hated me for moving, but I wasn’t going to say no.”
Sykes succeeded in her career despite not being involved heavily in student journalism. She is keen to show that there is no guarantee of meteoric success after being involved at university level. “It’s the weird thing about student journalism that all the people who were very interested in it when I was at university since became editors at newspapers – not top editors but they’re moving up – or they became writers, but none of them became really, really famous. None of them have made a massive splash like, ‘Oh, I remember them.’”
Sykes acknowledges she has been fortunate. “When I was at Oxford I just thought I wasn’t clever enough. The main thing is thinking you can do it.” However, she emphasises that there is no golden road to a career in the media straight after university. “I hope you realise that life when you come out is awfully disappointing. Let’s say you’re interviewing David Starkey now, but if you wanted to work for a newspaper, you’d be cleaning up their coffee mugs. After you leave Oxford, nothing will ever be that good.”ARCHIVE: 0th week TT 2005
The plummy voice of NY
