For a certain type of New Zealand fashion fan, Gloss is the pinnacle of glamour and what we want our fashion magazines to be. The iconic 80s TV show set in a fictional glossy, is one of those seminal series that you may expect someone like me to have watched: a fashion writer, former glossy fashion magazine editor, fan of nostalgia and 80s pastels.
But I was three when it first screened, and it’s hard to find full episodes to watch now; NZ On Screen has the first one in full. Last week, 35 years since the show first aired, I finally watched it - a terrible idea because now I am desperate to see the full soapy series in full.
If you do not know about Gloss, a brief education: the hugely popular TVNZ series screened for three seasons from 1987-1990, following the very rich Remuera family the Redferns and set in the offices of the influential fashion magazine Gloss. It was soapy, gossipy and perfectly of the era (The Spinoff’s Sam Brooks wrote last year that the show was “camper than a row of homosexual tents”).
Created and written primarily by the sharply funny Rosemary McLeod, the show also featured costumes - in all their late 80s, hyper-styled perfection - by fashion designer Liz Mitchell.
Gloss came during the peak of fashion and women’s magazines pushing an agenda of aspiration. Paula Ryan and Don Hope’s Fashion Quarterly launched as a catalogue in 1980, but in 1986 it had become the high-gloss magazine that many of us know off (I edited the magazine for a brief moment in 2018-2020, pre-pandemic). This was the era in which Gloss burst through: yuppies, big hair, big shoulders, long lunches and Champagne, Felicity Ferret, Auckland wealth and excess.
It was a deeply different time to the media and magazine landscape of today. The 80s excess - in fashion and budgets - is no longer relevant, and ‘women’s interest’ magazines have far less glamour and influence. But there are some things that stay eternal. How realistic was Gloss’ portrayal of life at a New Zealand fashion magazine? Here’s what caught my former glossy magazine editor eye in the first episode - both true, and truly nonsensical.
REALISTIC
A “production fiasco”
There’s a paper crisis, don’t you know, with the closure of local printing plants and escalating offshore costs having an impact on local publishers and magazines. So when editor Maxine entered the office and flung down her latest issue complaining about the quality of the binding, I scoffed. “First it was cheaper paper, and now this!” she declares. As an editor of a digital magazine it’s not something I necessarily identify with (anymore), but I do know of print editors who are having similar conversations and concerns today.
Spon con
“They decided to tie it in with some Champagne promotion,” says fashion editor Jasmine of a shoot she’s pulling together, a hint at the commercialisation of the industry to come.
Cost cutting
“This cost cutting applies right across the company, not just here on Gloss. It’s been a bad year,” says publisher Reid.
“Mm mm, not on this magazine. We’re the only thing making money and you know it,” replies Maxine.
A tussle between a publisher and editor about budgets: a tale as old as time.
A writer pivoting to PR
“She left to do PR for a biscuit company,” says journalist Magda about the mag’s previous staff writer. Moving to the slightly more lucrative “dark side” of public relations was a thing in the late 80s, and still is today.
A model working at a bar
French model Brigitte Berger appears as Alister Redfern’s unimpressed business partner Alex, with perfectly tousled hair and an 80s frilled ensemble. A pissed off model working in hospo? Some things never change.
Everything about the fashion editor
Gloss fashion editor Jasmine, played by Geeling Ng, can barely disguise her disgust at the rest of the magazine staff. That’s not really true of fashion editors today who are a lot kinder than they were back in the 80s, 90s and 00s, but her role, and one-liners, do help portray the passion and niche ridiculousness of the job - whether it's “10 grand’s worth” of hats (having expensive things in your care for a shoot is a reality) or declaring dramatically, “If you knew what I want to get these hats. I crawled over broken glass. These aren’t crummy local copies you know. They’re from Paris.”
UNREALISTIC
An ‘editor’ marked car park right outside the office
A free car park? In this city? Get real.
An editor with an office
In a time of working from home, open plan offices and hot desking, the idea of editor Maxine’s closed door office with desk, book shelves, glass coffee table and leather couches feels like a relic from another time. I’ve had publishers with their own offices, but they were tiny and glass-walled, with zero privacy.
Also unrealistic: the magazine’s masthead displayed prominently above the door. Today that would be the name of the parent company that owns several magazine titles, newspapers, websites and other platforms; like the Stuff logo that lights up Ponsonby Road each night.
Selling out on your first day of sale
“Our cover story’s on top, back this morning, we’ve sold out at our local diary, we’ve only been out a day.” Gloss’ cover story, a politically tinged story about “the true confessions of Esme Rambert”, has the political and media classes buzzing - a rare occurrence from a fashion magazine - quickly selling out according to the story’s reporter. A print magazine selling out on day one in 2022? Probably the most unrealistic part of the whole episode.
