I love fashion memoirs, and I especially love memoirs where interesting people speak candidly about the doyennes of 20th-century fashion/art/society. So it goes almost without saying that I loved this memoir. Talley's frank discussion of his experiences as a Black man (and, at times, what seems like the only Black man) at the forefront of fashion journalism in the last fifty years grounds what might otherwise be another fun but flighty fashion memoir. He also speaks candidly of his experiences of sexual abuse as a child, which have reverberated throughout his life.

These more sober elements of Talley's experiences coupled with accounts of his (what seem to an outsider to be) toxic relationships with Anna Wintour and Karl Lagerfield made for a tougher, almost sadder read. I expect Talley's memoir will stick with me more than the breezy bon mots of Diana Vreeland's, and I recommend it highly.