vogue roger

Photographed by Chad Moore, Vogue, October 2016.


Meet Maggie Rogers, the Pharrell Williams-approved producer:

“Maggie Rogers had not written music for nearly three years when, in a cascade of creativity this past March, it took her fifteen minutes to produce a song called “Alaska.” Four days later, Rogers, then a senior at NYU, played the track—which combines the confessional lyricism of folk music with a trotting electronic rhythm—in a master class hosted by Pharrell Williams. “Wow. I have zero, zero, zero notes for that,” Williams said afterward, almost teary-eyed. “It’s singular… . And that is such a special quality.” The video went viral.”

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anonymous asked:

Imagine the first time Steve makes a modern pop culture reference. Not just gets it or adds to one, but makes one himself. (Natasha would be so proud.)

The problem with battling villains in a city wasn’t just the massive structural damage and civilian lives at risk.  It was also how tight the fighting was; there was nowhere to go but into someone or something else.  Steve found it difficult enough, he didn’t know how Tony did it, having to account for the size of the suit as well as the damage his repulsors did just getting him off the ground and the weight of the suit when he landed.  

However he did it, he did it well.  As Steve rushed towards more oncoming, (Tony was calling them dustbunnies and Steve didn’t know what they really were so he’d taken to calling them dustbunnies and here they were.  Fighting dustbunnies.  Technical term.), he watched Tony rush past low, taking out a half-dozen dustbunnies as he went before rocketing straight up into the air.  

Clint and Peter were busy managing containment; they’d managed to shrink the radius of the fight to two square blocks and were holding strong if their occasional reports on his comm were any indication.  

More dustbunnies (Steve really needed to ask FitzSimmons what these things really were when all this was over) came pouring through the wormhole above them and Tony created a distraction, circling them quick and plummeting towards the ground.  The dustbunnies didn’t have great reaction times, and while Tony stuck a one-footed landing on a bridge railing, arms out for balance, a number of dustbunnies either slammed into the ground, or hit the water and fizzled into ash.   

Steve smiled at the sight and whispered unthinking under his breath: “Strike a pose now, vogue.”

“…Steve?” That was Natasha.  Who sounded like she was smiling.  Which meant she had heard him.

Which meant.  “Capsicle!”  There was Tony.  “You’ve joined the twenty-first century!”

“I’m so proud.”  Natasha sounded in his earpiece again.  

Steve thought that was the end of it, as more dustbunnies came pouring through the wormhole.  

And it was.  Until three days later, when Steve was double-checking his suit and tie in a mirror, (another charity event, this time for the damage wrought less than a week before), and he heard Madonna streaming from the speakers he usually heard JARVIS through.   

Very funny, Tony.  Steve texted.

Steve got back a picture from the security footage in the common hall he’d been checking his tie in, his hands on the lapels of his jacket and practicing his Public Appearances Polite Smile.  Vogue! Was the only text Tony attached to the image.