Rihanna graces three covers of Dazed’s 30th Anniversary Issue. Photographed by Rafael Pavarotti and styled by Kamara, Rihanna proves she is the moment even without releasing new music. Check out the high quality photos in this post!
Via Dazed: There seems to be a misunderstanding. Whether one likes it or not, there is, in fact, no such thing as waiting for Rihanna. The overture, even when delivered sotto voce from her biggest fans, is inaccurate. Unwieldy. Despite recurring, matter-of-course grievances, nobody, in truth, should be marking time in this manner. It’s a fantastic delusion that neglects the pop star’s signal. Her many signals. How she administers, with regularity, her own hospitable blend of bewildering beauty, play, seduction, good humour, and a superior glow, not to mention a whole regency of intense, generative style.
Isn’t it the case that with each new outfit, Rihanna erects a monument, sends out a flare and lights up group texts? She gives denim an ulterior motive, reinstates the pin-thin heel, and works over the concept of a hat. She is super-fluent with fur trim and at piling on Chanel pearls when going to the store. She can play to her audience in nothing more than ripped cut-offs and the colour pink. She’s out of sight; we know this. When Rihanna considers the shoulder, she creates a total eclipse. When Rihanna shows up in a long yellow train, the red carpet recedes. Silk, we’ve observed, falls differently on Rihanna. It finds its final form.
And yet, the premium of her whereabouts, how she enters and exits – creating a new cosmos each time she steps out of a car or leaves a restaurant – is lost on those busy grumbling for more. When the music comes, whenever that is, the very notion that it ‘arrived late’ will evaporate into a lapsed, prefab calibre of impatience that simply doesn’t suit Rihanna. Because hers is a project of magnanimous proportions, dispensed on her own sweet time.
The order of things is of zero concern, and the notion of an overdue album fails to understand something very simple. Has there ever been a feeling more turned-on and simultaneously unbodied than anticipation? Has there ever been an artist whose everyday performance plays, to perfection, on this type of pleasure? If desire subsists on some measure of disquiet, along with the sport (and business) of a good tease, then being disobliged by Rihanna is, perhaps, the most luxurious value of affection out there. It is she who should be running up the bill. As critic Doreen St. Félix wrote in 2015, “…as a Black woman whose artistic inventiveness outpaces her peers and music executives by what feels like whole years, (Rihanna) will also perpetually be owed”.
Read more at Dazed.