Alan Ilagan

It’s no secret that I love Madonna, and have for about 25 years. She had me at “You’ve got style, That’s what all the girls say.” Yet within that quarter century of obsession, fanaticism, admiration, and occasional ambivalence, I’ve only dreamt of her three times.
 
The first was around the release of Truth or Dare – or a little afterward, in 1991. In the dream she was wearing the Dolce & Gabbana bejeweled body-stocking/corset number that she wore to the New York premiere for the movie, and she had brunette hair and smoky eyes. I forget what I said to her, but she seemed friendly and responsive to it, so “it was a good dream.”
 
The second one I can’t quite remember, but I believe it came around the time of her Reinvention Tour. I think she invited me and Andy to hang out after a show or something.
 
This third one was last night, and it was much more detailed and memorable. I was hanging out with Matthew Rettenmund (of Boy Culture and The Encyclopedia Madonnica fame) and we were at his house. This was both strange and fitting: strange in that I’ve never met Matt in person, fitting in that he’s the Madonna expert and go-to guy, as well as a kindred fan and admirer.
 
Anyway, in the dream Madonna comes into the room we’re in, and just plops herself down in a chair. Her hair is again a deep brunette, and piled in a loosely-curled mop on her head. She mentions that she has a new watch but nowhere to put it, so Matt comes out with a watch holder like they have in jewelry stores. For some reason she signs it, “Matt gave me this!” with a pen, and he is giddy.
 
At that moment, I take out a tissue and blow my nose. “Did you just stick your fingers in your nose?” she asks.
 
“I used a tissue! I’m not a heathen!” I reply indignantly. She is amused and laughs a little. Sensing my chance, I ask her the only question I can think of at the moment (and I know it’s lame, but it’s all I really want to know about right then): “So what’s the new record going to sound like?”
 
“I don’t know,” she says.
 
“Liar!” I say with a smile. She gives a little laugh.
 
“Seriously, I have no idea.”
 
And then, abruptly and too soon, the dream is over.

These are the latest images form Madonna’s Dolce & Gabbana campaign, as shot by Steven Klein. While I think they’re superior to the first batch, I’m still hung up (in a not-so-great way) on the wig. What happened to the days of styling your own natural hair? (Granted, natural hair and Madonna haven’t always gotten together, but I miss her actual tresses.) I mean, I think the least you can do for a few million dollars is sit around for a few hours of hair and make-up.

That said, I do think these are wonderful, and it’s nice to see Klein creating something more traditionally beautiful than off-putting and edgy.

(I won’t even begin the witch commentary that will undoubtedly ensue with the above shot, but if anyone can defy gravity, I’d bet on Madonna.)

This is one of Steven Klein’s photos for Madonna’s upcoming Dolce & Gabbana campaign. While I normally champion just about everything she does, there are moments when I simply can’t get behind her. (Her collaboration with Gap, the second part of her Louis Vuitton ads, the shoddy efforts she put into every Greatest Hits album after The Immaculate Collection… to name but a few.) Of this preview pic (and the others I’ve seen, which show her doing mundane things like washing dishes, peeling fruit, and eating spaghetti with her bare hands) I’m a bit on the fence.

I went to Matt, my main go-to-guy when it comes to all things Madonna, and he seemed to be embracing them, so I’m giving them another chance, but my initial gut reaction was one of disappointment. I guess I was expecting some sort of ultra-glamourous scene when Dolce & Gabbana were involved. I get the concept here of turning that on its head, I’m just not sure I like it as much as I’ve liked previous work she’s done (like her first Versace campaign). I also feel like we’ve seen her do this sort of juxtaposition before – as in feeding the chickens in a dress and heels, or standing before a dirty Argentinean industrial site in formal white gloves and gown.

I will reserve final judgment until I see the ad campaign when it hits magazines. Until then, I remain unimpressed.