Quote by LEE ALEXANDER MCQUEEN, Spring/Summer 2006
Susannah Frankel has been one of the most important voices in fashion journalism for several decades. Her career moves between institutions and moments that reshaped the industry itself—from early roles at BLITZ, to fashion editor at The Guardian and The Independent, and now editor-in-chief of AnOther, a biannual publication she has helped develop into a distinct voice in contemporary fashion and culture.
Early on, she moved between art and fashion publishing, working on editorial projects that placed her in unusually rich creative environments before joining BLITZ. The real shift came in the 1990s, when she began writing about a new generation of designers changing the language of fashion from within. She reported on the McQueen and Chalayan shows that helped redefine what fashion could be. It was also through Lee Alexander McQueen that her work took on a more personal dimension—an encounter that became, in her own words, a defining point in how she thought about fashion, and her role within it.
A long-standing champion of creativity in the digital age, Susannah works closely with photographers, stylists, and designers who have pushed fashion closer to art, giving them the time and space to fully realise their vision. In a media landscape defined by speed, noise, and volume, her position is almost contrarian: slow down, look harder, let things be.
In this conversation with hube’s editor-in-chief, Sasha Kovaleva, she reflects on decades in the industry, the designers who changed her, the pressures weighing on independent publishing, and what she still hopes readers feel when they close the magazine.
Sasha Kovaleva: Many people fall into media, but few stay with it the way you have—with such passion and curiosity. Could you tell us more about your professional journey? What encounters or turning points shaped it most profoundly?
Susannah Frankel: I studied English at Goldsmiths. After graduation, in 1986, I worked at Academy Editions, a publisher of books and two magazines focused on art and architecture. I was very young when I found myself editing the work of renowned writers on both subjects—Charles Jencks was one of them—and collaborating with the Tate’s education department on a series of symposia featuring speakers such as Bernard Tschumi, Peter Eisenman and Zaha Hadid. When I think about it now, it was crazy that someone of my limited experience fell into that role. I was completely out of my depth.
From there, I took what was probably a more realistic position at BLITZ magazine, coordinating and writing art and fashion coverage. I worked with Kim Bowen, which was a riot. When she first moved to LA, I looked after her cat in her flat above the Pillars of Hercules in Soho. By the time BLITZ closed in 1991, I had become deputy editor.
After that, I worked as a freelancer, including for the consumer section of Time Out magazine. My friends called me ‘Consumer Woman’. Then, I landed the role of fashion editor at The Guardian.
I was an unlikely choice. I think the editors assumed I would be anti-fashion and certainly anti anything costing more than £100. However, the opposite happened with me. The liberal press in the UK at that time was suspicious of, and even hostile towards, fashion. The wish to secure advertising and nurture a symbiotic relationship was just beginning. Writer and editor Sally Brampton became my mentor. Through her, I met Rei Kawakubo, John Galliano, Yohji Yamamoto, Issey Miyake, and Azzedine Alaïa. Sally was brilliant—an inspiration.
On my own, I met Lee McQueen, and that was a turning point. I feel that many writers have one person in particular who drives their passion for their work, and for me, that person was Lee. He made me think harder, work harder, try harder. I wrote about him in The Guardian. Our personal relationship began when I started accompanying him to events. He was nervous. I was too. We went to 10 Downing Street and to a dinner hosted by the current King, who was then the Prince of Wales. We were seated at a table with Prince (the singer-songwriter, not the future King) and Lenny Kravitz. No one really talked to us.
The minute I met Lee, I knew he was special: someone who understood and created the most awe-inspiring fashion, but whose aesthetic and sensibility travelled way beyond that. There was scope then for the kind of experiential shows that Lee (and Hussein Chalayan) staged in London in the late 90s. I feel incredibly privileged to have witnessed that and to have had personal and professional relationships with them both. Back then, The Guardian wasn’t so keen on fashion, but the fashion world loved The Guardian. Lee was particularly excited by the wide-angle shots of his shows in the paper the following morning—probably more so than by any accompanying words.
Lee introduced me to Jefferson Hack and I started writing for Dazed. I then moved from The Guardian to The Independent as fashion editor. Simon Kelner, editor of that paper at the time, was respectful towards fashion and gave us room to do something different. I worked with Sophia Neophitou as a stylist, and looking back, we achieved some incredible things that you could never imagine being possible in a national newspaper today. For example, we did a Margiela story, shot by Martina Hoogland Ivanow (I still love her work; she shot for the last issue of AnOther). In one image the model was completely naked except for a mask. We also did a story with Mert & Marcus at the beginning of their careers. They photographed the Autumn/Winter 1999 McQueen Overlook collection for us. There were wolves, which were expensive to hire, and the budget was an issue, but we didn’t care. Sophia was, and still is, a wonderful human being and such a force.
When AnOther was launched in 2001, Jefferson [Hack] asked me to be the Fashion Features Director. Ten years ago, he offered me his position as editor-in-chief. I remember he called me while I was in Paris, and I was so happy. I feel emotionally attached to the title for many reasons. All of the work that I am most proud of, aside from books, has been published in AnOther. It was Jefferson who gave me the opportunity to work with more of fashion’s great stylists, photographers, and art directors.
To be fair to myself, I think I had the writing—and perhaps the voice—nailed. I will always be grateful to him, though. Being an independent publisher is not easy, but Jefferson and Rankin have consistently encouraged creativity and individuality. They support people who know what they think and love what they do. We have the freedom to be ambitious, to nurture talent, to celebrate it, and to collaborate with it at the highest level—which is increasingly rare. Our approach is always collaborative, and we are nothing without our collaborators and contributors.
AnOther is not only a fashion magazine. It is built around culture more broadly. But fashion, in a cultural context, is at its core. For me, it has always been about the designers: Karl Lagerfeld, with whom I spent more than my fair share of time, Rei Kawakubo, whose show still brought tears to my eyes this season after thirty years (I’m a crier), Vivienne Westwood, with whom we had a lovely dinner a long time ago, Rick Owens, the most brilliant, warm and intelligent man, Yohji Yamamoto, Alber Elbaz, Helmut Lang, Junya Watanabe, John Galliano, Issey Miyake, Dries Van Noten, Martin Margiela, Miuccia Prada, Raf Simons, Pieter Mulier, Jonathan Anderson and, of course, Sarah Burton, whom I also love. How amazing to have met and worked with them all. Why would I ever want to stop?
