Kerr-ent Affairs: Inside the Supermodel's Commune-ity
- Editorial Team
- Oct 18, 2024
- 2 min read
Let’s be clear: I’m not one for patchouli-scented pronouncements or the promise of communal living. Give me a stiff drink and a sharp wit over a drum circle any day. But Miranda Kerr’s latest venture, well, it’s piqued my interest.
The woman who once famously described her style as “kooky but chic” (a phrase that’s haunted me ever since) is now peddling a different kind of kook. A curated, Goop-adjacent, organic-cotton-clad brand of kookiness centered around, of all things, a “commune.”
Now, I’ve seen enough fashion fads come and go to know a well-packaged fantasy when I see one. And this “commune,” nestled in the sunny hills of California, with its meditation gardens and aura portraits, has all the trappings of a carefully constructed Instagram dream.
But there’s something undeniably alluring about it, too. The promise of escape, of connection, of a life less ordinary. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Yearning for something more than the relentless churn of the fashion cycle. The endless parade of shows, the air-kissing, the feeling that you’re always on the outside looking in. Even when you’re holding the front row ticket.
I remember once, years ago, at a particularly chaotic show during Paris Fashion Week – the models were late, the music was deafening, and the air conditioning had gone kaput. Anna Wintour, ever unflappable in her signature shades, leaned over to me and whispered, “Wouldn’t it be lovely to just run away to a farm somewhere?”
We both laughed, a shared moment of absurdity amidst the madness. But the thought lingered. A yearning for something simpler, more authentic.
And perhaps that’s what Kerr is tapping into with her “commune.” This deep-seated desire for connection, for something real in a world that often feels anything but.
Of course, the cynic in me can’t help but wonder. Is this genuine? Or just another savvy business move by a model-turned-mogul? A way to sell $40 rose quartz water bottles and $200 yoga mats to the masses yearning for a piece of the dream?
The jury’s still out. But I’ll admit, I’m curious. Curious enough to maybe even consider swapping my stilettos for Birkenstocks and giving this whole “commune” thing a try. Just don’t expect me to start chanting anytime soon.
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