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Chrissy Teigen Is the Unofficial Voice of Generation Fed Up


Chrissy Teigen has lost her voice. “I’m so sorry,” she rasps as we sit in a tiny Korean restaurant in New York City. Since giving birth to Miles, her second child with husband John Legend, in May, the 33-year-old model turned TV host turned everyone’s favorite social media spirit animal has been readjusting to her jet-setting schedule. “Everything is totally hitting me, and I’m very overwhelmed, and it’s like my body can’t take it,” she says, picking up the menu. Fortunately there’s a temporary balm for this condition. “Do you want a glass of wine?” she asks, her eyes glinting. As the waiter deposits two large glasses of sauvignon blanc on the table, she has three words: “Yes, please, God.”

It’s a little after noon on Wednesday, but for Teigen it’s already been a week: Three days prior she accompanied Legend to the Creative Arts Emmys, where he became the first African American man to achieve full EGOT. Then she flew to New York to promote her second book of maximalist recipes, Cravings: Hungry for More. But it was the latest episode of Lip Sync Battle, the celebrity “singing” competition on which she appears as host LL Cool J’s hype woman, that did her voice in. Producers arranged an on-air celebration for her mom, a Thai immigrant who recently became an American citizen. “She was so happy,” Teigen says, choking up a little as she flicks through pictures on her iPhone of her mom onstage with a dancer dressed as Times Square’s famous Naked Cowboy. “You forget, as crazy as the world seems right now, people are still extremely excited to be a part of this country,” she says. “I thought she was going to sob. And instead she just hit the Naked Cowboy’s butt.”

PHOTO: Tom Schirmacher in New York City. Stylist: Michaela Dosamantes; hair: Gavin Harwin at The Wall Group; makeup: Patrick Ta at Greyscale; manicure: Dawn Sterling at Statement Artists; set design: Maria Santana at Art Department. Solace London sweater. Rachel Comey skirt. Eres briefs. J.Hannah hoops. Jane D’Arensbourg ring.

Solace London sweater, $825, solacelondon.com. Rachel Comey skirt, $1,975, rachelcomey.com. Eres briefs, sizes 4–16, $210, net-a-porter.com. J.Hannah hoops, $1,480, jhannahjewelry.com. Jane D’Arensbourg ring, $132, janedarensbourg.com.

Now we know where Teigen gets her ability to land a punch line. She may be vocally compromised at the moment, but her nearly 11 million Twitter followers can count their lucky stars that she still has her fingers, which are just as itchy as the current president’s. When President Trump tweeted, “We must keep ‘evil’ out of our country!” in 2017, she replied, “What time should we call your Uber?” It’s digital bons mots like this that earned her the title of Twitter’s “undisputed queen” from none other than BuzzFeed, which does brisk business aggregating her observations into lists with titles like “100 Hilarious Chrissy Teigen Tweets We Honestly Need to Talk About More.” She’s just as candid in real life—on the Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohen after-show, she revealed she and Legend did it on their first date.

“When I look at the most successful people around me, I feel like they all had plans,” Teigen says. “But I never had a plan. Never.”

Tory Burch shirt, $348. Zimmermann pants, $650. Mary MacGill earrings, $145, cuffs, $135 each, J.Hannah necklace, $795. Lizzie Fortunato belt, $245.

“I enjoy talking to people and feeling like I know them,” Teigen says. “I always have.”

Johanna Ortiz top, $995. Theory slipdress, $395. Ariana Boussard-Reifel earrings, $325. Jimmy Choo mules, $625.

In an age when celebrities carefully guard their words, her candor connects. “I think the thing that resonates is that she is 100 percent authentic,” says Teigen’s longtime hairstylist, Jen Atkin. “She’s really tweeting like no one’s watching.” These days Teigen has graduated from posting about being hungover and puking into a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos to real talk about everything from breastfeeding struggles to dealing with mommy shamers. Her ability to share these universal truths with humor has challenged the boundaries of what’s appropriate for mothers in the public sphere. And her openness about late-onset postpartum depression has helped shed light on an issue that too often goes undiscussed. “I think the most surprising thing for me was that it happened three months after,” says Teigen, who was on the set of Lip Sync Battle dressed as Eleven from Stranger Things when she realized something was amiss. “I thought postpartum was, you have the baby and you’re sad. It was like, no. It sneaks up on a lot of people. That’s why I thought it was important for me to talk about.”

Our lives would be so much easier if we didn’t dabble in politics at all, but I don’t want that kind of life. For us, we’re willing to take that risk, because we believe in it so passionately.

Growing up in Snohomish, Washington, a farm town 45 minutes north of Seattle, Teigen never imagined she’d be in a position to change cultural conversations. “When I look at the most successful people around me, I feel like they all had plans,” she said. “But I never had a plan. Never. I used to be on antianxiety medication because I was confused. I didn’t know where I was going in life. All I knew when I was younger, or when I was 18, was that I wanted kids and a husband.” Even after her family relocated to Huntington Beach, California, and she began working as a catalog model, her aspirations remained modest. “Maxim Hometown Hottie,” she says. “That was the dream.”

Instead she landed the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, which was perhaps more wholesome. “Sports Illustrated was so good for me, just because they put more focus on personality,” she says. “I never saw it as a jerk-off moment. I never thought about a man flipping these pages and looking at me and being like, Yeah. For me it was like, ‘I want to be the chick that I want other girls to see and be like.’” She remembers living “week to week” and taking opportunities as they came—like appearing in the video for Legend’s 2007 “Stereo,” which featured Teigen writhing against the singer in what, thanks to Andy Cohen, we now know to be foreplay.

Self-Portrait dress, $430. J.Hannah hoops. Annika Inez glass necklace, $295. Louise Olsen necklace, $180, gold ring, $180. Jane D’Arensbourg ring, $132. BCBG Max Azria sandals, $198.

At first Teigen was intimidated by Legend, a “brainiac,” as she puts it, who started attending an Ivy League school at age 16. In 2009 she accompanied him to the Time 100 gala. “It was a table of, like, Oprah, Michelle Obama, and this woman who ran an incredible charity about sex trafficking in Southeast Asia,” she recalls. “At this point, I wasn’t anything. I remember going back to his dressing room and sobbing.” That same month Teigen found her voice on social media. “Puddy just bit my nipple and I think it’s gone,” she tweeted, referring to her now deceased bulldog, “are these the kind of updates Twitter wants?”

The answer: a resounding yes. “It’s weird to think about now, but that was sort of the first time someone on the page had a voice,” says Teigen’s friend and fellow Sports Illustrated cover girl Brooklyn Decker. “Models were still kind of a figment of other people’s imaginations, and all of a sudden here is this incredibly bright, incredibly candid person who people connected to in a really big way.” Not everyone in Teigen’s life understood the appeal. “People are like, ‘Why do you have time for all of these strangers?’” she says. “But that is my outside connection to the world. I genuinely love doing it. I always have. I enjoy talking to people and feeling like I know them and having this conversation.”

While Teigen’s “smart mouth,” as her husband famously put it, has provided relief to many, it’s also earned her a few enemies. After a tweet in support of gun control led to threats, Teigen briefly abandoned the platform. It’s a moment she’ll never forget. “That’s when it gets scary, because we have kids,” she says. She and Legend have considered taking things down a notch. “Our lives would be so much easier if we didn’t dabble in politics at all,” she says, “but I don’t want that kind of life. For us, we are willing to take that risk, because we believe in it so passionately.” This year, in honor of Trump’s seventy-second birthday, she and Legend donated $288,000—$72,000 for each member of their family—to the ACLU in his name. “We’re still just as fucking angry as we were a year ago,” she says, “but instead of just tweeting about it or creating a hashtag, it’s about what we can do to make it better.”

So is it safe to say that these days Teigen knows her worth? She drains her glass of wine. “I still don’t know my exact job title,” she says. “I have no idea what is going to happen six months from now. I don’t know anything. But maybe that’s the way it works for a lot of people. And I’m OK with that.”

Jessica Pressler is contributing editor at New York magazine.

Hair: Gavin Harwin at The Wall Group; makeup: Patrick Ta at Greyscale; manicure: Dawn Sterling at Statement Artists; set design: Maria Santana at Art Department.



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The Women of 'Dietland' Are Fed Up and 'Fat'—and It's Glorious to Watch


“I don’t hate myself,” Plum Kettle says in an early episodes of AMC’s new series Dietland, which premieres June 4 and is based on the best-selling 2015 novel by Sarai Walker. “The world hates me.”

That statement probably isn’t true, exactly, but it’s certainly how Plum—played by actress Joy Nash—feels. It’s how she, a fat woman working as a ghostwriter for a women’s magazine in New York City, views mankind. And why shouldn’t she? In the first three episodes alone, Plum is fat-shamed more times than most people will ever experience. She receives dirty looks on subways. Men take photos of her, laugh, and say things like, “Shake it there, sweet pads.” In one scene, someone flat-out calls her a “cow.”

To be clear, the cast and creators of Dietland don’t view the word “fat” on its own as an insult or a shaming vehicle. It’s the adjective of choice for Nash, and she says she trusts people more when they use it over more PC parlance like plus-size and curvy. “[The word fat] is not a euphemism,” Nash says. “You only need a euphemism when what you’re describing is so terrible you can’t name it.” Both she and Dietland‘s creator, Marti Noxon, hope the show works toward de-stigmatizing “fat.”

Which brings us to Plum’s story: The character receives another layer of oppression from her boss, a glamorous, narcissistic editor named Kitty (played with delicious camp by Julianna Margulies). She views Plum as her “hidden resource”: someone to work from the reclusive confines of an apartment. (Read: not around people.) The one-two punch of this blatant harassment and exclusion fuels Plum’s belief that she’s a societal “stain.” “Every day I walk around in this skin, people look at me like I have the plague,” she says in an early episode.

Plum’s experience here is very specific—it’s something that TV shows like This Is Us and Drop Dead Diva have addressed, yes, but never with this much searing, biting accuracy. Roughly one half of Dietland’s plot focuses on Plum’s weight—and the measures she takes to deal with it, including a willingness to drop thousands for a risky gastric bypass surgery. Her plans, though, are interrupted by a mysterious radical body-positivity group that offers her $20,000 to try their program: one that isn’t about excessive dieting or weight loss.

But whether or not they’ll actually help Plum is unclear: By the third episode, the only thing they’ve asked her is to go off her doctor-prescribed anti-depressants. How Plum fares on this journey is to be determined, but accurately depicting her body-image issues throughout—the constant thinking about food, the fat-shaming, the pining for a “dream body”—was important to Nash and Noxon.

“On a basic level, I want people to feel like they’re not alone,” Nash says. “The most embarrassing thing is when someone’s like, ‘Oh, when are you due?’ You feel like you’re the only person that’s ever happened to, but it happens all the time. It’s that person who’s the asshole and who should feel bad. Not me! On the base level, I want that: for people to feel seen, to feel represented.”

To ensure this happened, Noxon hired fat female writers and routinely called on Dietland‘s author, Sarai Walker. When Nash flagged a fat joke she didn’t like in one of the scripts, the higher-ups nixed it instantly. Noxon also employed empathy she learned from a life-changing experience. “I sat next to a fat woman on an airplane one time, and she cried and told me how much it meant to her that I was nice to her,” Noxon explained. “It changed my life.”

PHOTO: AMC

Joy Nash as Plum Kettle in Dietland

What Noxon and her team ultimately illustrate—with shrewd authenticity—is an idea many fat people, myself included, hold true: that we will be happy when (and only when) we achieve a “goal weight.”

“As a person who has suffered from disordered eating off and on throughout my whole life, somewhere early on I made the connection we were different sides of the same coin,” Noxon said. “We had this idea that if we could get to a certain body type, we would be lovable and precious. And that body type alluded us. And every day it alluded us, we were kind of not alive. We all had the same dream: that there was this person that society would love. At some point, it finally clicked: That’s an illusion. And I’m buying into it and I’m buying into it, and it just keeps not working.”

Noxon, Nash, and Margulies hope Dietland obliterates that illusion completely and encourages people—of all genders and body types—to start living their lives right now. “We’re always striving, but then we’re never present in how we actually are,” Margulies said. “And isn’t that enough? If we can stop thinking about how we’re supposed to be and start being who we are, won’t we then be at a better place on this planet to enjoy our lives? To be better to one another? Rather than this idea that perfection means happiness? It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

PHOTO: AMC

Julianna Margulies as Kitty in Dietland

Body image, though, is just one half of Dietland. The other half is about sexual assault, told through the perspective of an all-female vigilante organization named Jennifer that brutally kills predators. It’s heavily implied that Plum—somehow, someway—is tied to Jennifer, which means she might have her hands in not one but two extreme organizations.

The fact Dietland is coming out in the era of #MeToo and Time’s Up is partially a coincidence. “I got the five scripts for the first half of the show in August [2017], and the #MeToo movement didn’t happen until October,” Margulies said. “The Harvey Weinstein story broke in October. We were in pre-production [when the Weinstein story came out]. I was in a fitting getting ready to film when all that broke. So it was a confluence of events at the same moment, and it just made the show more relevant.” The urgency with which #MeToo was embraced, however, is what incentivized AMC to push Dietland up from a fall 2018 release to summer, according to Margulies.

“I think it’s not just a #MeToo movement. I’d like to call it a #FedUp movement.”—Julianna Margulies

Dietland takes the movement to another level; it shows women seeking revenge on their assailants through intense, gruesome violence. “I think it’s not just a #MeToo movement,” Margulies added. “I’d like to call it a #FedUp movement. I think that’s what this vigilante group [Jennifer] stands for. We are fed up. I don’t condone violence in any way, but there’s a certain satisfaction you get out of it.”

Indeed, there is a satisfaction in seeing extremes, whether it’s the extreme violence Jennifer uses to seek justice or the messages of Plum’s body acceptance group. These over-the-top depictions, in a way, give us the freedom to have more agency in our own lives—to love our bodies more, to scream “no” in uncomfortable situations, and to fight back. Whether you’re dealing with fat-shamers, misogynists, sexual predators, or something even more dangerous, that’s what Dietland is about: the fight.

“I had a moment [reading Dietland] where I was like, ‘Why don’t we arm ourselves?’ If these gun-crazy people are so adamant that we should protect ourselves, then why do women so rarely think to do that? We don’t even think that’s a right we have,” Noxon said. “I’m not advocating violence, but I’m advocating finding your voice, which is really hard. By and large, I think the biggest problem is people feel they don’t ever want to hurt anybody’s feelings in intimate relationships, and we just have to learn to get over that. [Protection doesn’t] have to be guns. We’re guns.”

Dietland premieres Monday, June 4 at 9 P.M. ET on AMC.

Christopher Rosa is the staff entertainment writer for Glamour.



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Designer Karl Lagerfeld: 'I'm Fed Up With #MeToo'


In a new interview with Numéro magazine, famed fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld—the man behind Chanel, Fendi, and his eponymous line—had some harsh words about the #MeToo movement.

“I’m fed up with it…What shocks me most in all of this are the starlets who have taken 20 years to remember what happened,” he said when asked about the topic. “Not to mention the fact there are no prosecution witnesses.” The 84-year-old German designer does, however, say that he “cannot stand” Harvey Weinstein.

As for whether or not #MeToo or Time’s Up have affected his work? That’s a hard no from Lagerfeld. “Absolutely not,” he says. “I read somewhere that now you must ask a model if she is comfortable with posing. It’s simply too much, from now on, as a designer, you can’t do anything. As for the accusations against the poor Karl Templar [creative director at Interview magazine], I don’t believe a single word of it. A girl complained he tried to pull her pants down and he is instantly excommunicated from a profession that up until then had venerated him. Its unbelievable. If you don’t want your pants pulled about, don’t become a model! Join a nunnery, there’ll always be a place for you in the convent. They’re recruiting even!”

Lagerfeld’s no stranger to making controversial statements. Last year, his allusion to the Holocaust when condemning chancellor Angela Merkel’s immigration policies on a French talk show sparked outrage, as did a cartoon he drew for a German newspaper, featuring Merkel and Adolf Hitler; before that, he built up quite a long history of body-shaming comments, as well as a feud with Meryl Streep.

His comments on #MeToo weren’t the only eye-raising things from his Numéro interview. On designers claiming they feel overworked, he said, “The worst thing about all of this, is that they try and blame me for their problems with working overtime. Azzedine [Alaïa], for example, before falling down the stairs, claimed that the supposedly unsustainable rhythms in fashion today were entirely my fault, which is absurd.” Before adding, about Alaïa, “I don’t criticise him, even if at the end of his career all he did was make ballet slippers for menopausal fashion victims.” When asked who between Virgil Abloh, Jacquemus, and Jonathan Anderson he’d take to a desert island, he responded, “I’d kill myself first.”

The interview concludes with this: “When I was young, my mother always said to me that I was stupid, she called me ‘Mule’. I’ve probably just been overcompensating ever since. And I’m not surrounded by idiots, I have fantastic teams. So, when it comes to the retarded and other ignoramuses, I don’t see them, I don’t know them…”



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