Me and Carine Roitfeld, the ex-editor of Paris Vogue and international style icon, are united in our undying love for pencil skirts. We like ours super tight and perfectly fitted, paired with high heels and more often than not with a simple, unbuttoned silk shirt. This might be the only thing we have in common, but I’ve always found Carine’s presence in the high fashion circles kind of comforting.

She has never been afraid to do sexy, something that fashion is usually extremely suspicious about. Her work as Tom Ford’s stylist/muse during his Gucci and YSL years alone should get her an award for Services to Sex (I especially loved what they did at YSL). She made Paris Vogue probably the most influential fashion magazine while never seeming to compromise her very particular vision. That got her in trouble several times, but that was clearly part of the plan.

After her departure from Vogue, she seems to have gone through a period of some uncertainty and confusion: it must be quite an adjustment, if you’re used to having such a powerful platform and suddenly only have the vision and no platform to speak of. But it looks like she’s well and truly back now, doing a collaboration with Uniqlo, having an influential, but not too taxing position at Harper’s Bazaar (International Fashion Director) and continuing with her biannual magazine. Frankly, her interviews are much more interesting and multidimensional these days than they used to be.

I finally got my hands on the CR Fashion Book (7th issue) – it’s unfortunately not as widely available as mainstream fashion magazines. If your usual magazine diet is mostly made up of Vogues and ELLEs and Harpers, this is a refreshing change. As expected, it’s less a catalogue of trends and more an extension of Carine’s interests and obsessions, but that’s of course what makes it interesting. It’s main strength is visual, also not a surprise – I especially liked a sinister housewife story featuring prim clothes, yellow blush and a generally poisonous atmosphere.

There is still quite a lot of sexiness, but it seems to be even more raw and un-pretty than before. I hesitate to use the word “real”, but this is definitely realer than what you’ll see in Cosmo. The approach is also quite inclusive in terms of body shapes, skin colour and sexual orientation. The mood is much less polished than in mainstream women’s magazines, but it’s not quite indie either – Roitfeld has a love for and access to the iconic (Lady Gaga, Cindy Crawford) and the cool (Grimes, Vivienne Westwood, the cast of Empire) kind of celebrity. The feautured brands are also mostly of the variety that need an income far larger than that of an independent tatoo artist.

All-in-all, this is a great weekend read when recovering from the night before and needing reassurance that one’s messy hair and yesterday’s make-up are indeed a refined style statement.