They never learn that when the Revolution comes, they are always the first ones lined up against the wall:
Edward Enninful started his editorship of Vogue magazine with a clutter-free desk — and soon he’ll have an empty office to match. Following the mass exodus of posh girls under Enninful’s new regime, an insider says the fashion bible’s remaining staff have been offered voluntary redundancy, as the Ghana-born stylist sweeps out ‘every last Sloaney sloth’.
When Enninful was announced as British Vogue’s first male and black editor in April, succeeding Alexandra Shulman, he is said to have told friends that his priority was to ‘get rid of the posh girls’.
He started his purge of the toffs by firing long-serving fashion director Lucinda Chambers, who aired her grievances in an incendiary interview with the fashion website Vestoj. Baronet’s daughter Emily Sheffield, the magazine’s deputy editor and Samantha Cameron’s sister, announced her exit in July. Sheffield was followed by editor-at-large Fiona Golfar, managing editor Frances Bentley, and several junior staff.
Terrified well-bred Vogue staffers said the office felt like ‘the night of the long knives’.
Poor posh girls. It’s hard to celebrate your virtuous lack of racism when you’re fired by a black man. Liberal whites never understand that blacks like Enninful simply don’t want them around any more than they want conservative whites or any other non-blacks around. In fact, they tend to have more wary respect for Asians and Hispanics, because at least the other minority groups tend to lack the delusions of racial equality and post-racial identity that afflict both white conservatives and liberals alike.
I always thought it was mildly amusing the way that the sports media always ignored the way that a team’s entire coaching staff would often go mostly black, if not all black, as soon as a black coach was hired. But then again, noticing reality is racist.
I find the entire situation to be hilarious. No one does bitchy like an entitled, middle-class British woman: One fashionista who unsuccessfully applied for the editor’s job sniffed: ‘It’s as though we entered Crufts and the cat won.’